


Three Loves (Pieces Of Us)

by Jude81, Kendrene



Series: Pieces of Us [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 3some, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Follows some canon and will diverge, G!P, G!p Anya, Girl Penis, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Multi, Rough Sex? Maybe?, Slow Burn, Smut, Threesome - F/F/F, but not yet, long fic, suckling kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:05:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 149,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8454661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jude81/pseuds/Jude81, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: Anya and Clarke escape the Mountain, but far from being free Clarke is taken to Lexa as a prisoner of war in a desperate attempt to salvage Anya's wounded honor. Will she manage to talk the Commander into an Alliance or is she destined to perish along with her friends still trapped inside the Mountain?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Jude and I are at it again! (and how fun it is to write with Twin! Give her love cause this fic is all her idea and I just ran with it ;) ) Please keep in mind we will add more character tags and general tags (one especially for Artzy) as need arises, with appropriate ANs if necessary. We wouldn't want to spoil you too much! 
> 
> \- Dren
> 
> Hey All. The beginning of this fic sat in my computer for a year, but thanks to my lovely co-author, Kendrene, this fic is better than I ever imagined.This fic probably wouldn't have seen the light of day without her. So give her lots of love.
> 
> \- Jude 
> 
> As usual let us know what you think in the comments or leave a kudo. We love hearing back from you!

Clarke sat in the dirt, her legs awkwardly splayed out in front of her. She scowled down at her bound hands, noting the dried blood on the tattered pieces of leather. Despite the wear and tear on the leather laces, she still hadn’t been able to break them, and her wrists were now bruised and the skin broken. She had resorted to chewing at the laces at one point, which had simply earned her an amused chuckle from her captor who now squatted in the dirt across from her.

“Is this really necessary, Anya?” The blonde huffed.

She was exhausted and hungry, and there was mud and dirt deeply ingrained in the pores of her pale skin. It was so pervasive, she doubted she would ever be clean again. She could only imagine how many scrubbings it would take to remove weeks’ worth of grime. Not that Anya was likely to let her bathe any time soon.

She raised her bound hands and scratched at the side of her head, flinching at the feel of the greasy tangle of hair plastered to her cheeks. She supposed she should get used to it at some point. She didn’t know how far they were traveling, but it was obvious that they were headed away from both the dropship and the Mountain.

Her stomach rumbled, and she flinched. She wasn’t just hungry but thirsty, and despite the last few weeks on earth, her body still was not accustomed to the oppressive moisture that hung in the air. Nor was she particularly fond of all the bugs, especially the flying ones that bit at her skin, and swarmed around her head. When she had studied bugs on the Ark, no one had mentioned the little red bumps they left behind, or how they could fly into your ears, and up your nose. She had even inhaled a few of the nasty things. She shuddered just thinking about it.

But despite the humidity that cloaked her skin, it did nothing to ease her dry mouth or cracked lips. Her lips had already bled a couple of times, and when she had been stupid enough to complain to Anya, the woman had simply shoved her a little harder in the back, muttering something in her own language. And Clarke was certain she had been called a name, a “ _branwada_ ,” not that she knew what it meant, but occasionally Anya would mutter words and phrases that reminded her of her own language. It made sense that they had a common tongue at one point.

She shifted in the dirt, letting her hands drop between her legs. She picked up a twig and spread her legs wider. She started scratching idly in the dirt, her mind hazy with fatigue, her hunger gnawing at the edges of her mind. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the daze from her sight. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, the cracks busting open again. She didn’t mind the iron on her tongue, at least she could taste something, even if she couldn’t eat.

Anya crouched across from the girl, her long arms dangling over her knees. She held herself still, not making any unnecessary movements. She kept one eye on the forest, while they rested, for the Mountain Men never gave up easily. But the other eye…that she used to keep a careful watch upon the Skai Girl.

It was obvious that she was exhausted, not just from their maddened jump from the mountain and their fast and arduous pace through the forest, but from her time here on earth. Clarke wasn’t built for life on earth, her feet weren’t meant to ever touch the ground. She was pale and thin, her muscles under-developed. No, she was meant to live among the dying stars. She had been pushed to her limit, brought to her knees. She reeked of filth and blood and death. Her greasy hair hung limply down her neck, and she occasionally swatted at the bugs that tried to feast on her dirty skin. And yet…and yet…she still had not broken.

Anya cocked her head, watching as she scratched something in the dirt. Despite the girl’s sheer stubbornness, and inability to keep her mouth shut there was something about her. Something that spoke to her. She frowned. No. Called to her. She shook her head, disgruntled and feeling slightly anxious. Anxiety was a foreign feeling to her, and she didn’t like the way it clawed at her belly. It shredded at her fragile self-control.

She stiffened slightly and turned her head to peer into the forest. She growled low in her throat. They were getting closer, it was time to go. She stood abruptly, and in three strides was standing in front of Clarke, who looked up at her in surprise. She reached down and grabbed the girl’s wrists, yanking her to her feet.

The girl stumbled slightly crashing into Anya’s chest, her legs had mostly fallen asleep, and she grimaced as flashes of fire burned along her nerve endings. She opened her mouth to berate Anya, but her words were lost in the muffled heat of Anya's palm.

“Quiet,” hissed Anya. Her left arm was wrapped securely around Clarke’s waist holding her tight against her where Clarke had fallen. Her right hand was still pressed across Clarke’s mouth, and she suddenly scowled when she felt something hot and wet scrape across her palm. She glanced down at Clarke to be greeted with exasperated blue eyes. The blonde tried to shrug and push herself away from Anya, but Anya simply pulled her more firmly against her chest. It probably wasn’t necessary to hold her so tightly, and despite the slightly sour and musky smell emanating from the girl, Anya couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the feel of warm curves pressed against her own hard, angular body. She grit her teeth when she felt her shaft twitch in agreement, and she silently cursed herself. She was surprised in some ways, because she normally had much better control of her body, but like the blonde; she was exhausted and her body had taken some serious beatings. So she bit back her sigh and enjoyed the brief feel of warm curves resting against her body.

But her pleasure soon turned to pain, and she barely squelched a gasp when she felt sharp little teeth sink into the palm of her hand. She curled her lips in a silent snarl, and gave the girl a warning glance before slowly removing her hand from her mouth. She quickly raised a finger to her lips, and jerked her head to the side.

Clarke’s eyes widened momentarily, and she nodded in understanding. Anya grabbed her shoulder and gave her a slight shove in front of her to get her moving, and Clarke started to make her way deeper into the forest, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Anya winced. The girl sounded like a rampaging _pauna_ in the forest. No wonder the Mountain Men were still following them.

She grabbed some broken fir tree branches and started to wipe out their footprints, but she hesitated when she looked down at the picture Clarke had scratched into the dirt. She looked up, her eyes glued to the girl’s retreating form, and she looked back down at the picture. She bit her lower lip before carefully wiping the branches across the scratch marks. She continued, walking backwards and wiping their prints as she went, until she reached the end of the swaths of dirt. She threw the branches aside, knowing it wouldn’t buy them much time, but it was a start.

She quickly caught up with Clarke, scooping up the braided leather  rope and tugging the girl behind her. She scrambled their way up a steep hill, their feet slipping the loose soil. She desperately grabbed at tree branches trying to haul them both up the steep hill, but her strength was waning. She had lost too much blood in the mountain, and she could feel her energy ebb away with every breath she took.

She stumbled to the ground, barely managing to drop into a shaky crouch. She jerked Clarke down with her, ignoring the blonde’s muttered curse. They both peered over the edge, and Anya stared in silent disbelief. The Mountain Men were just below them, getting ready to climb the hill. She dropped her head, panting harshly.

“How is this possible?” She whispered under her breath, her shoulders twitching as she tried to gain control of her breathing. She felt Clarke shift against her, pressing her chest to the back of her shoulder. She was momentarily distracted by the feel of her body pressing against her, and she inwardly cursed herself. She needed to focus on getting them out of this alive and in one piece. She needed to hand Clarke over to the Heda. She couldn’t afford to return to her people in disgrace. Clarke was a worthy prize that might appease Heda’s wrath for her failure. Her prize. She grit her teeth.

Clarke shifted again, leaning over Anya’s shoulder and narrowing her eyes. She gazed at the men in the suits and realized one of them was holding something that he would look to and then point. She cursed again under her breath and leaned harder against Anya’s shoulder. She pressed her lips almost against her ear, “they aren’t following us, they are tracking us!”

She grabbed Anya’s shoulder tugging her sharply, “If I’m right, it should feel something like a small bump just under your skin.” They both quickly started to search their bodies, and both Anya and Clarke grimaced at the same time when they saw the raised bump on Anya’s arm.

“It’s you,” whispered Clarke, “Ok I can remove it, but you need to untie my hands.” She held up her hands pleadingly as she started to look around, “I just need something sharp and sterile.” She turned back around and her mouth dropped open in shock as Anya bent over her arm and bit deeply.

“Or we could just do that,” she muttered.

Anya growled lightly at the pain that lanced through her arm, but she refused to give up, and she grunted and twisted her head violently when her teeth closed around the foreign object in her arm. The blood slicked her tongue and dribbled down her lips as she spit it out on the ground. She glared at Clarke, “I’m not going back.”

Clarke nodded mutely and gestured with her hands again, silently pleading with Anya. She glared when the older woman shook her head. “Anya, we don’t have time for this shit. We would make better time, if you would untie my hands!”

Anya smirked at her, “So you can run away Skai girl? No, I need you. You are my prize,” and she turned, tugging sharply on the braid, and Clarke stumbled after her, as Anya led her deeper into the forest, down the other side of the hill.

* * *

 

Dusk was just starting to filter through the trees when they finally made their way to the outskirts of a small village. Anya crouched low in the bushes, dragging Clarke down with her, and when the girl huffed at her, she tightened her grip on her arm in warning. She smiled to herself when the blonde immediately quieted and leaned slightly forward so her breasts were scraping the back of Anya’s upper arm. She was tempted to move her arm back, so she could brush against the warm swells of her breasts, but she resisted, reminding herself that she already had someone waiting for her in Ton DC. Someone who was probably becoming more and more anxious the longer Anya was gone, but who would also never admit to it. She forced thoughts of her lover out of her mind to concentrate on the task at hand, mainly was this village loyal to her Heda.

She bit her lip as she looked carefully around the small village. It was only a small cluster of huts. She counted seven, but she thought there might be a few more further back in the trees. There were a few pens that contained some chickens and boars, and there was a communal fire in the center of the village. She could see shadows moving around it, and she counted at least nineteen tall shadows and maybe four or five smaller shadows. Children. She relaxed slightly. Children in a village was always a good sign, it meant this wasn’t just a village outpost for warriors.

She stiffened slightly as she saw a shadow detach itself from the fire and slowly walk towards them. She carefully reached back and shoved the end of the rope she held into Clarke’s hands in order to free hers, but also to give the girl a chance to run if this went badly. She carefully reached out with her right hand, feeling along the ground, and she almost breathed a sigh of relief when her fingers scraped against a rock. She carefully worked it loose from the earth, and clutched it in her hand, pleased that it was big enough and jagged enough to inflict a significant amount of damage if used correctly. She waited and watched.

The shadow came closer, limping slightly, moving carefully and quietly, but not deliberately. The careful movement and silence was second nature to the shadow, and it turned and sat down on a log only a few feet in front of Anya and Clarke.

“You can let go of the rock. That won’t be necessary.” The voice was old and hoarse, but firm and confident. The shadow turned slightly, and the glow of the fire just barely spilled across weathered, brown cheeks and a slightly crooked nose.

Anya hesitated, still unsure, but there was something about the voice, something that beckoned to her to retrace the steps of her youth. She slowly lowered the rock, letting it rest silently on the dark earth. She reached back and fumbled for Clarke’s rope, suppressing a smirk when the blonde practically shoved it in her hand. Obviously the blonde wasn’t ready to be left alone in the dark woods or with strangers.

The shadow stood up slowly and beckoned. “Come. It is safe here. Even Heda stops here sometimes.” The shadow walked slowly back towards the fire, confident that the strangers would follow. “You must be hungry and tired.”

Anya rose to her feet and tugged at Clarke’s rope. She stepped carefully through the bushes and walked behind the shadow that she could now see was a woman, a woman who had already triumphed through many seasons, probably more than Anya ever would.

“What village is this?” Anya’s gaze continually swept the area. She noticed a few able bodied men and women sitting around the fire, sharpening various swords and knives. A few small children rested against their parents’ knees, sleepy heads resting in their laps. Two mothers were nursing, and Anya relaxed a little more. But she saw a few warriors step out of the tree line, and she realized that they had known she’d been there for quite some time, but had decided she wasn’t a threat. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

The old woman smiled and gestured towards a log at the fire. She shooed a large man out of the way, who mumbled but nodded his head sheepishly and moved. Anya looked around at the expectant faces looking at her. All watched her carefully, but none appeared to be afraid of her, and none showed any malice. She didn’t see any clan tattoos though, and that worried her.

She pulled Clarke closer to her side, and then pushed her down to sit on the log while she remained standing. She shoved the rope back into Clarke’s hands and rested one hand on the girl’s shoulder squeezing just enough to make it clear that she didn’t want Clarke to move.

Clarke was too tired to argue, and she slumped gratefully onto the log. She shuffled her feet and leaned forward resting her elbows on her knees. She stared at her dirty hands, and the red marks along her wrists. She sighed and looked up at the curious faces around the fire. She watched as a woman bent over one of the boys, a few years younger than herself, who sat on the log opposite the fire. She handed the boy a plate heaped with food, and Clarke’s eyes widened when she saw her misshapen hands. She wondered what injury could have resulted in the knotted mess of flesh.

She glanced up at Anya a question in her eyes, but Anya jerked her head slightly, her dark eyes glaring into Clarke’s. Anya had already noticed the young child wrapped in his mother’s arms who only had one healthy leg. The other appeared as if boneless. And as she scanned each villager, she could see that many of the adults had knotted and misshapen flesh and bone. She returned her gaze to the old woman when she heard her laugh.

“And now you know who we are, what we are.” The old woman laughed and pulled the fur around her shoulders a little tighter. “We are the castaways, the exiled. The discarded.” At Clarke’s questioning glance, she continued. “We were left to die in the woods at birth, because of our deformed flesh and bones. But we survived, and now all are welcome at our fire.”

Clarke nodded slowly, realizing that it was probably the effects of the radiation. Not everyone was able to resist it while in the womb. She felt the anger simmer in her belly though at the thought of the grounders casting children aside to die simply because their flesh was deformed, or their bones crooked. She clenched her fingers into fists and glared angrily into the fire.

Anya crouched down next to the sky girl and whispered, “Did you not once tell me that a second child had been born and locked away, and when she was discovered, her mother was tossed out of your Ark to die? Did your people not send you here to die?” Anya chuckled when she saw the younger girl’s shoulders deflate of their righteous anger.

Anya looked around smiling a little at the people as they returned to their conversations and work. She looked up gratefully when a bowls was shoved in her face and another in Clarke’s. She stayed squatting, and quickly began to eat the steaming meat, sopping it up with the large chunk of bread in the bowl. She watched from the corner of her eye as Clarke fell ravenously on her food, shoveling it quickly into her mouth, ignoring the heat that was surely burning her tongue.

Clarke couldn’t stop the groan that slipped past her mouth as she quickly ate. The meat was tender and savory and the hard bread was warm and almost nutty flavored. She licked her fingers, unmindful of the dirt, eager to not let a drop of the spicy gravy escape. She was too hungry to be embarrassed about her manners, and when her bowl was empty, she stared at it sadly, only to have it quickly replaced. She glanced up at the young girl and smiled thanking her quietly. This time she ate a little slower, enjoying the rich flavor that hit her tongue. She had never tasted anything like it before. She licked her fingers again, moaning lowly, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but Anya.

Anya watched in amusement as the girl devoured both bowls of food, carefully licking her fingers. Anya watched with rapt attention as the girl’s pink tongue circled around her own fingers, sucking the juices off, and catching each drop that slid down her fingers. Anya felt her cock start to harden when she heard the quiet moan, and she stiffened and tore her gaze from the blonde. She looked up and saw the old woman watching her in amusement.

Anya grunted in embarrassment, glad that the darkness covered most of her current bulge. She shifted awkwardly trying to ignore the way her cock scraped against her dirty pants. “So who are you?” She directed her attention towards the old woman who seemed to be the de facto leader. “I’m Laren,” continued Anya, not ready to reveal her true identity despite the woman’s claim that Heda sometimes stopped at this village.

The old woman laughed and picked up a stick, poking at the logs. “No, you are Anya. Anya kom Trikru, Primary General to our Heda. You were her Fos, and now…and now you are her….” The old woman’s voice trailed off, and she smiled knowingly at Anya.

Anya carefully set her bowl down and shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. She balanced her weight evenly, ready to spring to her feet. She eyed the woman carefully. She knew far more than Anya had imagined. She knew about her and Heda. Very few did, and it was meant to be a secret. She stamped down the growing anxiety in her chest, suddenly unsure if she was actually among friends or allies. She cursed herself for approaching the village. They should have taken their chances in the woods, even if they were near the Azgeda border.

“Sha. Set you down, Anya.” The old woman waved her hand at Anya, her gaze trained now on the fire. She continued to stir the logs and finally spoke quietly. “My daughter was Costia’s mother. Costia was born here.”

Anya’s mouth dropped open a little, and she shifted her weight back. It was suddenly clear why Heda would visit this village. Anya knew that Costia had been raised by her grandmother that her mother had been taken by Reapers when she was a young child. Heda rarely spoke of Costia anymore, but she had mentioned once the woman who had raised Costia, and how Heda had greatly admired her, even loved her.

“Then you must be Bren.”

“Sha. I am Bren.” The woman stood slowly, throwing the stick into the fire. “Come. I will show you where you can wash up, where you can sleep.” She led them to a small hut set back closer to the trees. Anya thanked the old woman, and once she was gone, she pushed Clarke towards the middle of the room where a large beam held up part of the roof. She carefully tied Clarke to the beam, but left her hands in front of her.

“Really, Anya? Is this really necessary?” Clarke slid down with a thump, letting her feet go out from under her. She was exhausted and now that her belly was full for the first time in…well a very long time, she simply wanted to sleep.

Anya ignored her and instead made her way to the fireplace. She grabbed some straw and small sticks from the pile of kindling, and quickly struck a spark with the flint and steel. She carefully blew on it, coaxing the flames to life. She added more straw and small sticks, and after a few minutes, she added bigger sticks. She stood when she heard the polite knock on the door.

A young boy and girl walked in, the boy holding a sword in its scabbard and belt and a dagger. He offered them to Anya, and the girl handed Anya a bundle of clean clothes and washing rags before they quickly ran off. She put the items on the bed, glancing over at Clarke who had her eyes closed and head tilted back against the beam. She hesitated for a moment, but then decided they would both feel better after a bath. She stepped out and when she came back, she had two buckets of warm water with her.

She set them down carefully and then kicked Clarke in the foot. “Come on. It isn’t a proper bath, but you smell. Get clean.” She untied Clarke and pushed the girl towards one of the buckets and tossed her a cloth and small ball of soap. She turned her back to Clarke and quickly tossed her clothes off into a pile. She dipped the cloth into the warm water and soaped up, before starting to quickly but thoroughly scrub the layers of dirt and blood from her skin.

When she didn’t hear any movement behind her, she turned in exasperation, ready to give Clarke an earful, but when she looked at her the girl was surprised to see the girl just staring at her with wide eyes.

“What is it?” She tossed her cloth into the bucket and put both her hands on her hips, not caring that she was naked and giving the sky girl more than she had bargained for.

“Your back,” whispered Clarke. She had been shocked at the sheer number of small scars on the woman’s upper back. She had realized almost immediately that they were kill scars like the ones the grounder sported. The grounder whom she had killed, after Tris had died.

Anya snorted and shrugged. She had stopped thinking about the rows of the dead that weighed her shoulders down. It helped no one to think of all the lives gone. But the movement caused the younger girl to tear her eyes from Anya’s, and Anya stared at her in confusion when she stumbled backwards with a gasp.

Clarke stumbled back, catching herself against the beam. She had been so transfixed by the scars on Anya’s back, and then her dark eyes that she hadn’t noticed the rest of Anya’s body. Until now. She blinked a few times, unsure if she was simply so exhausted that she was hallucinating, but despite how many times she blinked, the sight in front of her never changed.

“You…You have a…” she blushed as she stumbled over her words, and she finally gestured towards Anya’s crotch while she looked away in embarrassment.

Anya looked down at her cock. And then looked back up at Clarke. Was there something wrong with it? Was it not a good size? She was confused by the girl’s apparent confusion and embarrassment. She shrugged, unsure really how to reply.

“Yes.” She left it at that and waited for the girl to say something.

Clarke looked around the room, her mind scrambling to adjust to what she had seen. But finally her gaze was drawn back to Anya, despite her attempt to resist the urge. She bit her lip and stared at it. It looked like any other cock. At least she assumed it did. She really only had experience with one, and that was Finn’s. Finn’s looked like it was thicker, but she thought perhaps Anya’s was even a little thicker. She felt the heat creep up her cheeks, and she mentally berated herself for even comparing them or thinking about Anya’s.

She took a deep breath and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Is that normal?” She jerked her head towards Anya’s crotch again.

Anya blinked at her and then looked back down at her cock and then back up towards Clarke. She took a step closer, amused when Clarke drew back slightly. But she saw the pink flush her skin, and she couldn’t help but notice that despite the grime covering the girl’s skin, she was beautiful. She was strong too. Anya grudgingly admitted it. The girl hadn’t whined nearly as much as she thought she would on their perilous flight into the woods.

“What is normal?” She shrugged and reached down and tapped her cock and shrugged again. She chuckled when the girl squeaked in surprise that she would touch herself in front of her.

“I mean…is it common for women to have…” she gestured this time towards Anya’s cock and met her eyes defiantly, “those?”

Anya looked at her for a moment, realization dawning. “Your people…your women do not have these. Ever?”

Clarke shook her head, “No. Never.” She frowned for a moment. “Well, at least I don’t think so.”

“Sometimes women are born with them. Sometimes they are born with both. It isn’t common, but it is normal.” She stressed the last word, making it clear that her people didn’t judge each other on the basis of what was between their legs.

Clarke nodded slowly. She assumed it probably had something to do with a mutated gene, from the radiation that had flooded the world after the Great War. But then she stared at Anya in surprise when the rest of her words registered. She was surprised, and she was immediately ashamed that she was surprised that the grounders were so accepting. Although perhaps not entirely accepting, as they did have the bad habit of abandoning their children to die if they were deformed. She shook her head, knowing that her people were no different. Even petty crimes were punishable by floating.

Anya shrugged again and walked around the girl to the bed. She pulled on a pair soft looking shorts, deciding that it was more than enough to sleep in. She separated the piles of clothing and tossed Clarke a pair of soft shorts and worn shirt to sleep in. “Get washed and then get into bed.”

Clarke caught the clothes and set them aside. She untied her boots, kicking them off, and then peeling the shirt over her head. She winced at how caked with dirt and blood it was, and she dropped it to the floor wondering if it would be better to just burn it. She dropped her hands to her pants, and then froze realizing that Anya was now sitting on the bed, avidly watching.

“Turn. Around.” She ground out as she glared at the grounder, who simply laughed at her. “You have nothing, I haven’t seen before.”

“I don’t care. You haven’t seen mine before. Now turn around.” Clarke huffed at the insolent grounder, wishing she could simply immolate her with the force of her glare.

Anya chuckled again, enjoying the flush of righteous indignation that bloomed across the girl’s fair skin. “Fine. Your virtue is safe with me,” she teased as she pulled the furs back and crawled under them, turning to face the wall. She smiled at the girl’s snort.

Clarke quickly undid her bra and pulled her pants down once she was sure that Anya wasn’t looking. She washed hurriedly, her back to Anya, thankful that she was finally clean, although wishing she could have taken longer. But she was exhausted and despite the extra logs that Anya had thrown on the fire, it was getting colder as the temperature dropped.

Once she was finished washing and changing, she shuffled over to the bed. She threw a glance towards the door, but knew she would never make it, and despite how gruff Anya could be, she didn’t seem inclined to actually hurt her. Despite the blow to her head that had originally knocked her out after they jumped over the waterfall, Anya hadn’t tried to really hurt her.

“Don’t even think about it,” growled Anya. She rolled over and slipped from the bed, moving quickly around Clarke to grab the rope. She gestured towards Clarke, “Hands.”

Clarke immediately put her hands her back. “No.”

Anya hissed under her breath and grabbed Clarke’s arm, trying to wrestle the girl’s arms around despite her struggling.

“No, Anya, I won’t run. I promise!” Clarke stilled and looked up at the taller woman. “Please, Anya. I’m exhausted and my head hurts. I won’t run. I have nowhere to run to.” She laughed bitterly, “I’m not stupid, Anya, I know my best chance of survival is with you. I’d never last the night in the woods.”

Anya stared at her for a moment, studying her carefully. She knew it was true. Despite how foolish the girl could be, she wasn’t stupid. She was intelligent enough to realize that she needed Anya. She nodded carefully and tossed the rope aside. She grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her towards the bed.

“If you try anything…” She didn’t bother to finish the threat. She was confident the blonde understood, and she smirked when the girl nodded and obediently crawled into the bed. She climbed in after her, pulling the furs up around them both. She settled on her back and stared up at the thatched ceiling. She hissed while the girl wiggled around and finally turned on her side facing the wall. It didn’t take long for her to grow quiet, and after about fifteen minutes, her breath evened out.

Anya lay there, listening to the night sounds outside. She could hear people shuffling off to bed, hear the perimeter guards making their rounds. She felt fairly secure knowing that there was a very slim chance anyone would try to hurt them. She closed her eyes, her hands resting on her belly underneath the furs. She was exhausted but her mind wouldn’t stop tumbling.

She would be returning to Polis in disgrace. But first she had to stop in Ton DC and deliver Clarke to her Heda, and then she would be returning to Polis in disgrace. Her face burned in shame at the thought of what Heda would say to her, what she would do. She was Heda’s most trusted general, and she had failed her. She bit down viciously on her lip, reveling in the pain and the copper that tainted her tongue. She hated the anxiety that she could feel sitting in her chest. She knew Heda would be displeased, but she hoped that Lexa would be happy that she was returning to her.

She let her thoughts turn to Lexa, her young lover, her second, her Heda. It had never occurred to her that she and Lexa would become lovers after Costia. They had always been Seken and Fos then Heda and General, but they had also always been friends. It had been surprising that they had formed such a lasting friendship. Hedas didn’t usually have friends. Only generals and counselors and subjects.

She supposed it had made sense. It had been she who had wrapped her arms around Lexa while she’d screamed in her grief when Costia’s head had been delivered to her bed. It had been she, who had never left Lexa’s side in the ensuing days and nights. And the nights had been the worst. She would waken crying in her sleep, calling for Costia. Anya had long dismissed the guards, not allowing anyone near Lexa at night to hear the young Heda mourn her lover. And Anya had held her through the long nights assuring her that Costia was at peace, and that she had done what was right by not chasing after Nia. And there had been days when she wasn’t sure that Lexa would survive the crushing guilt.

But one night, the same night that Queen Nia had bent her knee to Heda and had finally joined the Coalition, Anya had held Lexa in her arms, while the young girl cried for the last time. And then she had taken deep shuddering breaths, and when she had finally pulled her face from Anya’s neck, her lips had scraped across Anya’s mouth. To this day, Anya didn’t know if it had been an accident or deliberate, or maybe it had even been fate. But it had been the natural culmination. And together they had found some sort of peace, even happiness in each other’s arms. She sighed. It had been almost three years since Costia’s death, and almost two that she and Lexa had been lovers.

She sighed again as she thought about Lexa. A small smile played about her lips as she remembered the feel of Lexa’s curls tumbling across her back as the brunette kissed each kill scar. Heda had no kill scars. Her back wasn’t big enough, but she understood what they truly meant despite having none, and she had always taken such gentle care, kissing and loving each one. She knew the burdens Anya bore for their people.

Anya bit her lip as she thought of bright green eyes, and plump lips, and a hot mouth that tasted sweeter than honeyed wine. She felt her cock twitch again, and she carefully slid her palm over her shorts cupping herself. She wrapped her hand around her bulge and squeezed lightly, biting back the moan that threatened to slip past her lips. It had been weeks since she had been inside of Lexa, weeks since she’d felt her lover’s body press into her own. It had been almost as long since she had touched herself. She turned her head carefully to the side, noting Clarke’s still even breathing.

She knew she probably shouldn’t, but she couldn’t resist. Her cock was aching and maybe release would help quiet her mind. She slid her hand down her shorts, rubbing her palm lightly along her shaft. She tried not to jerk her hips, and she wrapped her fingers around her length, gently tugging on it. She closed her eyes and thought about Lexa, her shining green eyes; the elegant arch of her back, the round firmness of her bottom. She felt her cock jump in her hand, and she squeezed the base and then drew her hand up in a twisting motion. She could feel the pre-cum gathering at the tip, and ran her fingertips through it, spreading it down her length.

She could feel herself harden even further, and the heat coiled in her belly. Her muscles tightened, and she tried not to pant as the delicious heat sunk deep into her thighs. She could feel the pressure building in her cock, and she recalled when she had said goodbye to Heda before heading to meet with the people who had fallen from the sky.

Lexa had pushed her down on to the bed, dragging her pants down to her knees, before gracefully sliding to her knees. She groaned at the memory of Lexa taking her in her mouth, the heat of her tongue sliding along her shaft. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, and she squeezed the base of her cock hard, in an effort to keep herself from bucking her hips. She gently released the base and trailed her slick fingertips up the underside of her shaft. She rubbed the leaking head, imagining it was Lexa’s tongue tickling the tip.

She could feel her balls tighten, and the pressure pound in her length, but despite how hard she tried, she couldn’t fall over the edge. She cursed under her breath, as she tugged on her cock again, her movement growing more choppy as the heat continued to swirl in her belly. She felt like kicking her feet like a petulant child, for no matter how hard she willed herself to fall over the edge, she couldn’t. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to imagine how good it felt to be inside Lexa’s mouth, to see those bright green eyes staring up at her, the pouty lips wrapped around her cock. But the image flickered, and faded, and brown curly hair became blonde, and bright green eyes turned into hazy summer blue, and the lips wrapped around her cock were a lighter pink and thinner, but no less talented. She came hard, her hips jerking, and she bit down on her hand. The pressure exploded up her cock, and her cum splatted across her belly. She rode out the orgasm, pumping her cock with her fist.

And when she was finally done, her muscles shook with exhaustion. She used a corner of the fur to wipe the cum off her hand and belly, and she tucked herself back into her shorts. She lay there, her mind hazy with pleasure, but one picture clearly stood out in her mind. Clarke.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

Clarke lay there, barely breathing. She had been shocked and intrigued when she had first felt the movements next to her. It occurred to her that she should probably be angry that Anya had taken such liberties while they were in the same bed, but instead she was…excited. She rolled her eyes as she carefully clenched her thighs, feeling her clit pulse lightly. She squeezed her eyes close, and tried to ignore what had just happened. She felt Anya shift and roll on to her side, her back to Clarke. Clarke heard her breathing eventually even out, but sleep was a long time coming for Clarke.

* * *

 

The next morning she was grateful to discover Anya had already left the bed when her eyes opened. The ropes the Grounder had used to tie her were gone, along with the clothes she’d stolen from the Mountain. Her eyes were drawn to a bundle, waiting for her at the foot of the bed and she quickly kicked the blankets off and crawled to it, snatching it off the floor.

She figured it would be best if she was dressed before Anya decided to show up. She knew the woman’s patience to be famously short.

The clothes were surprisingly soft and comfortable and she found herself dressing eagerly. It was nice to be wearing something clean for a change.

She was struggling to secure some chest wraps around her breasts when Anya stepped inside. Clarke hunched over, the memory of what she’d witnessed the night before burning on her cheeks.

“You’re staring.” She threw weakly towards the warrior, angling her body further away from the door. No answer was forthcoming, then she felt Anya’s finger tap her shoulder.

“Let me,” the tone lacked the usual snark, “otherwise we’ll be here all day.” Nevermind.

Clarke felt Anya’s knuckles brush against her shoulder blades as the warrior took the edges of the wraps from her clumsy hands, then the older woman’s arms went around her briefly as she wound the wraps around her chest to tighten them at her back with a small knot. She was very glad that Anya could not see her face, because judging from the heat she felt on her cheeks she was about to evaporate. By the time the warrior stepped back, Clarke was shaking slightly.

“What’s wrong with you?” The blonde turned, shrugging into the shirt that had been provided and when blue eyes tangled with mocha, she felt her throat run dry.

“Nothing,” she mumbled, then offered an apologetic shrug seeing Anya’s expression turn doubtful, “perhaps I ate too fast last night.” Her tremors had nothing to do with the havoc Anya’s… jerking off had wrecked between her legs the night before.

Nothing at all.

Her clit throbbed faintly and she shifted, trying to press her thighs together as discreetly as possible.

Anya watched the girl curiously. She really didn’t understand the modesty, but perhaps it was a sky thing. Clarke was beautiful, albeit not as beautiful as Lexa - she thought with a burst of loyalty - but still… The girl decided it was a good time to bite on her lower lip as she squirmed under Anya’s scrutiny and derailed her train of thought completely.

Her cock twiched - _its_ mind now was perfectly clear.

Anya turned away abruptly, motioning for Clarke to follow and trying to shove these thoughts away. She had disgraced Lexa enough and as pretty as the sky girl was she could distinguish between fleeting attraction and...and…. _other things_. She was not a mindless animal in rut.

They emerged from the hut and the girl stumbled against her back, momentarily blinded by the light. Anya grunted in surprise and glared over her shoulder. The sooner this irritating Skai Prisa was out of her hair, the better.

Bren was waiting for them outside, one of the village’s warriors behind her a few paces, holding a horse’s reins. She gestured to the animal - it was scrawny but his shanks were straight and it looked like it could endure a long trip. A satchel with supplies had been tied to the side of the saddle and Anya knew the villagers must have parted with some much needed food so that she and Clarke could eat on the road. She resolved to have Lexa send supplies for the village, remembering how chagrined she had been in the beginning at the sky girl’s reaction to her intimate parts. Were they any better really, shunning people like these because of deformities they couldn’t control?

She was brought back to the present as the village’s Elder bowed deeply.

“A word if you will _fos gona_?”

Anya cast a warning look at Clarke, who in turn rolled her eyes at her and sniggered, then moved a few paces away, following the old woman.

“I’d like to thank you for the shelter. And the horse.”

Bren waved her words away with a kind smile. “It is nothing. I am sorry we can’t spare more.” She leaned in and grasped Anya’s forearm, fingers digging into the warrior’s flesh, directing a slanted look to Clarke. The girl was distracted, eyeing the horse up and down doubtfully.

“Something dark is coming, Anya kom Trikru. Guard the girl well.” Kindness dropped, her words were cold and cutting, and Anya found herself shivering. A moment later, Bren pulled away, motherly smile back into place.

“How…” Anya wet her lips and tried again. She’d never admit it out loud, but the woman had managed to rattle her. “How do you know of these things?”

Bren winked, and the wrinkles on her face seemed to shift and wriggle with her amusement. Anya was starting to feel slightly queasy. “The Sight has been in my family for generations.”

“Ah.” That’d explain how she had guessed about her and Lexa so assuredly.

The warrior didn’t know what else to say, and the Elder patted her arm gently. “Off you go now child. Remember my words and all will be well.”

They set off later than Anya would have liked, but Bren had drawn a map of the area for her in the dirt, and she had a good idea of their surroundings. It would take about a day longer to get back to TonDC than she’d imagined, but she wasn’t about to risk venturing close to the Mountain, especially not if they were still looking for them. They had been lucky to evade the search teams as it was, and she didn’t feel like pushing her luck.

Before mounting on the horse, she had patted the coiled rope at her belt and given Clarke a piercing look. “If you give me any trouble…”

The girl had rolled her eyes and snorted, in that irritatingly haughty way she had.

“Yes Anya I _KNOW_. I also promised not to run remember?” Her blue eyes held a quiet challenge that Anya had seen flash by when they were being hunted. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit it was enticing and a little heady.

That was how they found themselves riding the mangy gelding, Clarke seated behind her, arms wrapped tightly about her waist. The girl was silent for a change, and Anya started to relish the ride. Sunrays speared their way through the trees’ canopy and they went from sun, to shadow, back to sun. Her eyes scanned their surroundings tirelessly, but all she could hear were birds chirping, and the occasional animal running through the underbrush - most likely away from the trampling horse.

She would have enjoyed the ride even more if Clarke hadn’t been squeezing her around her midriff quite so hard.

“You don’t have to hold so tightly you know, “ she said at last, breaking the silence, “I won’t let you fall. Besides you’ll be less sore if you try to move with the horse, instead of impersonating a block of ice.”

Clarke only grunted in reply, but her hold slackened. Anya had expected a snarky remark and she began to wonder if the girl truly was coming down with some sickness.

The new arrangement worked well for a while, but as they rode over more irregular terrain, Anya noticed that the _skai gada_ was brushing against her with every cant of the horse. It wasn’t a problem per se, but the warrior was acutely aware of which part of Clarke was pressing into her back, over and over.

She vowed silently to herself to shake it off. She was a seasoned warrior, and she had a lover waiting for her at home. She was more than capable of separating her lust from her duty, and doubly capable of resisting the sky girl. She congratulated herself on managing to regain control all the way up until the moment Clarke slumped forward letting her weight rest against Anya’s back. Her hands fell into Anya’s lap, loose and pliant, and Anya almost choked when the very tip of the back of Clarke’s fingers scraped across her crotch.

She felt herself grow stiff again, her shaft aching against the seam of her pants and groaned inwardly. It was cool in the verdant shade of the trees, but sweat slicked her brow and trickled down her shoulders while her loins started to ache. It wasn’t unpleasant and yet it was - so she tried to douse her ardor by thinking about her shame, once Lexa would hear of how Clarke and a handful of untrained children had defeated her. Of course that led her to think of Lexa and her touch, and how much she missed falling into exhausted sleep with her on those nights when they allowed themselves that luxury. But now as her mind played back those memories there was an added element, a glow of golden hair at the corner of her eyes.

Pressure seemed to build inside her until Anya felt close to bursting. She sawed the reins sharply and the horse came to an abrupt stop, snickering offended. Clarke crashed against her back with a muffled “oomph” as movement stopped, causing the warrior to inhale sharply.

“What’s going on?” the girl asked confused, as Anya dismounted and helped her down. Her legs almost gave way when she touched the ground, and if not for Anya’s support she would have landed on her ass in a heap.

“Time to eat,” the older woman replied, without meeting her eyes. Once she was sure Clarke could stand unaided, she let her go and went to rummage in the saddlebags. She spent longer than necessary rummaging through the saddlebag while trying to regain control of both her feelings and her body. She glanced down at the offending body part and curled her lip in reproval. “Just behave,” she muttered under her breath before grabbing the carefully wrapped package of food and turning to speak to Clarke.

The words died in her throat as she watched the blonde remove the too big jacket and stretch her bare arms high up over her head. Anya watched as she wiggled her fingers and arched her back trying to work out the kinks, unaware of the brunette who stood staring at her stupidly. Anya felt herself flush slightly as she gazed at the girl’s prominent breasts on display as she turned and wiggled, stretching out her cramped muscles.

Anya was stunned. She knew the blonde was attractive, but she hadn’t realized just how beautiful the girl was under all those layers of dirt. She idly wondered what Lexa would make of the girl. She was intelligent, and while she was like a new fawn in the woods, she was stronger than Anya had first suspected. Her hair shone in the sunlight, and her porcelain skin was turning a rosy hue, and Anya let her gaze rake the girl’s figure, noting the soft curves. Her body was vastly different from her own and Lexa’s, and anya wondered what it would feel like pressed against her own, writhing between the two of them.

“What are you staring at?”

Anya shook her head, viciously stamping out the thoughts that she had allowed free reign for too long. “Nothing. Here. Eat.” She opened the package and broke the bread in half and shoved it with some strips of meat into Clarke’s hand.

They ate quickly, too quickly for Clarke’s liking, as she dreaded getting back up on the horse. Her thighs were aching, and she was sure she had used more muscles trying to ride the horse, than she even knew she possessed. She grunted and walked to the horse, waiting for Anya to mount and pull her up, but instead Anya gestured to the horse and then cupped her hands.

“Um…” Clarke stood uncertainly looking up at the horse and then Anya who was starting to look annoyed.

“You are going to ride in front, now put your foot in my hands, and I’ll boost you up. Come on. We need to get to TonDC. We are still too close to Azgeda territory, and I don’t want to spend the night out here.” She gestured with her cupped hands, and once Clarke had managed to get the correct foot in Anya’s hands, she boosted the girl up. She mentally thanked Bren for giving them a calm horse as the blonde clambered rather inelegantly up on top of the horse.

Once Anya swung up behind her, she reached around Clarke’s front and grabbed the reins clucking to the horse. She held her arms rather awkwardly around Clarke, as she tried to refrain from touching her too much. But soon the muscles in her arms started to burn, and she finally gave in and lowered them to Clarke’s waist. She sighed in relief and relaxed. But her relief didn’t last long as Clarke leaned back in Anya’s arms. Anya grit her teeth and chose to ignore the warm weight of Clarke resting against her. At least she couldn’t feel the girl’s breasts brushing against her anymore.

Clarke relaxed against Anya, too tired to care that she was practically supine in her arms. She let her eyes drift close, the rolling gate of the horse soothing her into sleep. Her body swayed gently in Anya’s arms, and despite the fact that she was Anya’s prisoner, she had no fear that Anya would let her fall off the horse.

Anya glanced down, smiling in amusement as she noticed that the girl was almost asleep. The girl was relaxed and swaying slightly in the saddle, and Anya tightened her arms around her to better support her weight. She shifted forward, and her crotch scraped against the upper curve of Clarke’s bottom. She bit her lip, tempted to shift again and push into the girl, but she resisted. But she stiffened when she felt Clarke shift back into her, ass pressing against her cock. She bit back a groan as she felt herself start to harden.

She tried to think of other things, but her mind was focused on the warm body in her arms, and with each dip and stride of the horse, Clarke swayed in the saddle, her bottom scraping against Anya’s hard cock. She desperately wanted to reach down and adjust herself, unlace her pants to relieve the pressure on her cock, but she didn’t dare. She didn’t want Clarke to wake up and notice her not so small problem. But the gods were not smiling down on her today, and Clarke sat up straight, shifting in the saddle causing Anya to viciously bite down on her lower lip.

Clarke yawned as she turned her head looking around. She relaxed in the saddle, head woozy with sleep. But it only took a moment for her to realize that she was leaning heavily back into Anya. She stiffened and sat up straight, mumbling an apology. She gripped the saddle horn, concentrating on the path the horse was picking through the woods. But she couldn’t stop her body from naturally swaying in the saddle, and every time the horse stepped upwards through the dips and knolls in the woods, she felt her backside scrape against something hard.

It didn’t take long to figure out what was poking her in her lower back, and she bit her lip as she looked up at the canopy of trees. She worried her lower lip, wondering if she should bring attention to it, or just try to ignore it. But all she could think about was what she had seen last night, and she groaned inwardly cursing herself. Embarrassment be damned, the situation was becoming more unbearable.

“Um, Anya?” She bit her lip again, leaning forward slightly hoping to put more space between her and Anya, but instead it only served to push her bottom back hard against Anya. She cringed when she felt Anya stiffen, and heard the low grunt in her ear.

“I told you to keep quiet, Clarke. We are still too close to Azgeda territory,” Anya managed to choke out as she felt a bead of sweat drip down her back.

“Actually, you didn’t tell me to be quiet, Anya,” bit back Clarke as she turned and looked back at the stoic warrior behind her. Her eyes widened and she quickly turned her attention back to the front. She hadn’t anticipated the almost predatory gleam in Anya’s eyes. She shivered slightly, and cursed herself immediately.

“Anya…”

“What, Clarke?” Snapped Anya in exasperation, embarrassment coloring the edge of her voice.

“Uhm...your...uhhhhh...well, it’s poking me.”

Anya groaned inwardly and grit her teeth. Sometimes denial was the best policy.

“That’s the saddle, Clarke,” she said solemnly, praying the irritating blonde would just be quiet.

Clarke snorted in disbelief. “I may not have ever ridden a horse before, or seen a saddle before, but even I know that isn’t what is poking me in the back!”

“I’ll give you something to ride,” muttered Anya as she looked down at the bulge between her legs, cursing her lack of control, cursing the blonde, and cursing the blonde’s round bottom especially.

“What?” Clarke felt all of the moisture drain from her mouth, and she could barely breathe. She had heard the warrior, and now her mind was filled with thoughts best left alone while on top of a horse.

“Nothing. Be quiet, Clarke, before Azgeda comes and cuts out your tongue,” snapped Anya.

They rode like that for hours, wrapped in a silence that was somewhere between embarassed and uneasy, through terrain that became steeper and rougher the further south they went. They were traversing hills, high enough to slow their journey, but not impervious to the occasional Azgeda raid. The horse seemed to sense their awkwardness as they unconsciously shifted around in the saddle, trying to ride without literally grinding against each other, and it hampered their progress further. The horse would occasionally snort and toss its head, as if it had something to say about their foolishness.

Anya knew the land would flatten out the more they neared TonDC, but as she lifted her gaze to track the sun’s progress downward she knew they’d never make it in time for nightfall.

Spending another night alone with the troublesome blonde was not something she needed.  It was not something she wanted, she tried to tell herself and her body promptly called her out on her lie.

Anya huffed in annoyance, masking it behind a surreptitious cough. She half expected Clarke to glance back at her, but the girl was slumped forward, almost over the neck of the horse, and from the rigid line of her shoulders, the warrior guessed she was spending her remaining energy in keeping upright.

Dusk gathered like an unwanted guest where the trees grew thicker and the evening’s shadows lengthened slightly with each beat of the horse’s hooves. A wind picked up, carrying the night’s chill and Anya began to scan their surroundings for a good place to camp. She had briefly toyed with the idea of pushing on through the night, but the danger of the horse breaking a leg was too great. Besides, the animal’s flanks were lathered in sweat and its snorts had become more frequent and labored.

The warrior stood up on the stirrups briefly to get a better view as the descending sun coated every leaf in hues of pink and rosy gold and finally spotted a promising patch of ground. It was a tight copse, made of a few pines sticking close together and judging from the deep shade underneath, the ground sloped away gently from the trail they were following. Between that, the tree trunks and the bushes they’d be effectively hidden from view, so much perhaps that they could afford to light a small fire. Bren had packed tea leaves with their food, and Anya would gladly have something hot to chase down the chewy strips of meat and the hardy bread.

She nudged their mount off the path and dismounted, tying the horse behind one of the pines.

Clarke shook herself from her daze as she felt the horse come to a stop and slid her leg over the animal’s neck with a pained grunt.  Her hips were on fire and she was sure she had blisters on the tender meat of her inner thighs. As soon as her feet touched the ground her muscles spasmed and her knees buckled, unable to hold her weight. She tumbled forward with a curse and a low moan, and barreled right into Anya’s chest, grasping at the woman’s shoulders to stay upright. She felt the warrior’s arms go around her instinctively and had to suppress a pleasurable shudder as hardened muscles pressed briefly into her curves.

Anya watched Clarke fall like an inevitable thing of gravity and beauty, and reflexively stepped forward, arms outstretched to catch the girl. The last thing she needed was a twisted ankle. Clarke collided with her chest, soft curves flush against her body, generous breasts briefly moulding to her own and Anya was glad that the wind had started howling loudly, masking her hoarse gasp.

Clarke pushed back hurriedly, if gently, muttering apologies and refusing to meet her eye, which was a small blessing all considering, since the heat of her cheeks must have been as bright as the setting sun.

Anya pushed her to go sit against one of the trees, busying herself with unsaddling the gelding and gathering the saddlebags. The poor beast deserved a good rubdown and to be fed first, considering it carried them pretty far without much complain. Anya felt some of her tension ebb away as she worked and she found respite in the fact that they’d be in TonDC on the morrow.

When she turned from the animal to gather wood and start a fire, she started with surprise seeing that Clarke had already set herself to the task. SHe tried to find fault in the placing of the fire, or its size and grit her teeth when she couldn’t. A small seed of admiration for the girl’s resourcefulness planted itself inside her chest and refused to be uprooted.

“What,” Clarke smirked from the other side of the flames, “you thought I couldn’t even light a fire? We were on the ground for way more than a week before you decided to come knocking.”

Anya said nothing, simply watching the girl’s mouth curve into a sour grimace as memories of a far bigger, hotter fire burned through their thoughts.

“I am sorry,” Clarke’s blue eyes darkened with regret and she scowled at the ground, “that was callous of me.”

“War is callous.” Anya breathed tepidly through the words and the tension burst like a punctured sore and leaked away from the small clearing. The girl nodded, saying nothing and worrying her lower lip between small, white teeth in a way that was too enticing for her own good.

Anya pulled a small iron kettle and a canteen from the bags, settling it over the fire, then offered Clarke more of the bread and meat they’d had for lunch. There was enough left for another full day, she judged before tying the bag close.

Their meal was consumed in silence, both of them aching from the day spent travelling and content to listen to the forest’s sounds growing muted with the encroaching darkness.

Owls and other nightly birds started calling to each others while the scurrying of small animals like squirrels faded, the braying of a fox in the distance sending them into a frantic run for their dens. Clarke took advantage of the time to study Anya.

The warrior sat against a tree opposite her, languidly reclined against its bark as she nursed a steaming mug of tea. Her almond shaped eyes were slivers of dark chocolate veined with gold in the low light, and the cutting edges of her cheekbones were gentled to a softer line by the light of the fire. Half her face was harsh shadow, her lips pressed into a little smirk, as if the world held an amusing secret that only she was privy to.

Clarke couldn’t help the shard of attraction that had lodged firmly in her throat. It grew bigger with each passing hour, hard to ignore and swallow around. It tied her tongue in knots and made her fumble for her words, and she reminded herself for the upteenth time that she was a prisoner. Despite her hope for an alliance with the grounders, Anya was still the enemy and Clarke should be fretting about what would happen once they reached this TonDC, instead of ogling her.

Still she couldn’t push those thoughts away, and was glad when a yawn threatened to break her face in two.

Anya followed suit, glaring at her as if it was her fault (it probably was), and struggled upright to grab their sleeping rolls. Clarke heard her curse in her language, then a blanket roll hit her square over her head.

“What was that for?” she grumbled, untying the bundle and shaking the blankets out. Anya just grunted and gestured for her to lay down and sleep. That was when Clarke noticed there was only one blanket roll, even if admittedly it was big enough for two.

“What about you?” She quirked an eyebrow questioningly. The warrior patted the bare ground and smiled dourly.

“I’m fine where I am.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, exasperated. Surely Anya must have been part mule to be so fucking stubborn. “Don’t be an idiot.”

The wind blew across the clearing and they both shivered.

“I said I…”

“Please Anya. It’s not like I care if you die of hypothermia,” wrong - strangely enough she didn’t want anything bad to happen to Anya, “but you’re my best chance to make it out of these woods alive, so…” She trailed off and wiggled under the blankets, patting the spot next to hers invitingly.

“Fine.” Anya kicked dirt over the dying fire then moved to the blankets and laid down next to her. As she settled onto her back with a tired sigh, Clarke thought that sharing the covers with a wooden log would be more comfortable. At her side Anya was utterly rigid, and she thought she could almost  hear her teeth grinding together.

“You know,” she murmured softly, trying to keep mirth from her voice and failing, “your virtue is safe with me.” There was a moment of utter stillness, then Anya’s shoulders shook in silent laughter and Clarke felt the woman relax slightly.

“ _Reshop_ _Klark_.” She blinked, thinking she had misheard but the warrior was turning on her side to face away from her and she lost her chance to seek clarification.

Anya’s breaths slowed and evened out, yet Clarke found she couldn’t follow into slumber. The very air that grazed her cheek was charged with electricity and her mind kept chasing errant thoughts like a shepherd desperate to bring his sheep to pasture.  

Anya had crawled under her skin, between the fiber of her every muscle. It seemed to her that a length of shiny razor-wire had been coiled around her chest, and that the warrior held its other end and every unaware tug of it drew them closer, cut her deeper. Clarke thought about her mother, dark eyes filled with disapproval at the thought her daughter could harbor certain intentions for an adversary, but not even Abby’s visage, baleful and distorted in righteous anger seemed able to deter her heart.

The woods pressing down around her became a source of torture; each sigh of the wind was Anya murmuring her name, the breeze on her skin turned to deft fingers tracing the line of her jaw. The heat coming off the other woman was no help, and soon enough Clarke’s eyes glazed over slightly at the thought of how it would _feel_ to have the other woman hold her without barriers between them, and how it would be to have her move inside her. An image etched itself on her mind, brought on by Anya’s own grumbled words a few hours prior, of herself straddling the older woman and riding her with abandon.

Clarke groaned softly and when Anya shifted against her side, her heart began to hammer at her ribs, and she shared the aching knowledge of how a hummingbird must feel desperate for flight to escape a fumbling, cruel hold. But the warrior only settled with a soft mumble and Clarke released the breath she’d suddenly found herself holding.

She tried to inch away a little, eliciting another murmur and stilled, as the softest of throbbings began to beat a faltering rhythm between her thighs. Sweat stuck her shirt to her skin, turning it to a wet rag and her chest bucked and heaved as heat became a solid mass inside her belly.

She became aware of her hand slithering past the edge of her trousers as her fingers brushed her  mound, causing her hips to cant upward sharply. She couldn't stop, and sid down further, pushing her underwear aside. Her cunt was so drenched her fingers almost fell inside her of their own volition and she retracted her arm hurriedly, biting her lip bloody not to bump into the sleeping form at her side.

She could only feel the wetness coating her fingertips as she rubbed them together, but her eyes widened regardless. Her own tang made the night air heavy and redolent with unspoken promises.

“Shit.”

And if that wasn’t an understatement, she didn't know what was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Anya finally make their way to TonDC and Lexa. The Skai Prisa finds herself faced with new threats and the promise of retribution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it took us a while, but the new chapter is finally here! We hope you will enjoy. As usual feel free to let us know what you think of the chapter. We treasure your comments and kudos.
> 
> Writing with my Twin is one of my biggest joys and I am happy you all get to share it with us.

 

Rough, calloused fingers smoothed the map down on the folding table, and a dagger was placed to weigh down an unruly corner that kept folding upwards, obstructing the view. In the flickering light of a few candles, scattered around the tent, the map took on a golden hue. The parchment was tattered and faded with age, its edges torn and frayed by overuse. The entirety of the  _ Trikru _ territory was inked on the paper, in colors once vivid and now bleached by sun and weatherwear.  Some of the names tagging villages and other points of interest had been annotated in Anya’s angular script.

The fingers migrated from the symbol that marked TonDC further east to the place where the Sky People had first come to the ground. Then they moved to another area and shifted small wooden figurines on the way, to mark the new scouts’ positions.  

Lexa bent forward, lines of tension appearing around her eyes. Her green gaze turned hawkish as she glared down at the map and spun plan after plan into her head, discarding it immediately. The news the scout had brought her, that more people had fallen from the sky was deeply unsettling. She didn’t doubt she had assembled enough Coalition warriors to deal with the new threat, but it was a troubling development she had not expected. 

Lexa didn’t like surprises. 

A faint rustling, coming from a corner of the tent prickled at her ears, but forest green eyes stayed glued to the map, studying it intently, scanning it for clues on her next move. A scuffling of feet and she finally straightened with an irritated sigh.

“Speak.” Truth be told she was surprised that Indra had held back that long, but perhaps the way she’d chewed at the string of messengers and warband leaders that had streamed inside the tent over the course of the day had given her General pause.

“We should attack. We - “

Lexa’s head whipped around and her scowl deepened. The candle’s light cast her face in harsh shadows and bronzed her skin to burnished copper, caressing the line of a jaw tense with frustration.

“We will wait for Anya to come back.” 

Her tone left no room for argument, but Indra opened her mouth regardless, willing to risk her ire to get her point across. Lexa’s eyes turned to baleful emerald, but the General didn’t seem deterred, despite the light sheen of sweat suddenly dampening her brow. 

“These…  _ Skaikru _ ,” the word twisted like a curse in the space between them as Indra stepped forward to tap a finger on the spot of the new landing, “they’re a danger. They carry  _ Maunon _ weapons…”

An imperious flick of Lexa’s wrist was all it took to halt Indra before she launched into one of her tirades. 

“Precisely because they have guns, I will not march our men to the slaughter unless there’s another solution. Now leave me. I wish to meditate.”

Indra bowed her head, taking the rebuke in stride and left her to her own devices. 

Once alone, Lexa walked to her bed and tugged her boots off, resisting the temptation of throwing them across the room. Her frustration had built into a headache that throbbed right above her nose, squeezing down rhythmically on her temples.

She unbuckled her armor with economic motions, learnt on campaigns so numerous she’d lost count. Normally Anya would help her, and wipe the warpaint off her face with a wet cloth as they discussed the day’s meetings between them.

The unease that had been curling inside her gut all day reared up its ugly head and she folded herself into a cross-legged position on the bed, trying to bring her suddenly ragged breathing under a semblance of control. 

She imagined how Anya would tease her about her fretting, and a soft smile full of longing spread across her lips.  She had been surprised that she had missed Anya the first time her general left her side after they had become lovers. It had been a week long campaign to the South to deal with some dissidents in one of the clans. She had never particularly missed Anya before when she sent her on missions and campaigns, and certainly not with this type of longing. And the longing hadn’t changed as the months and years passed. She supposed it was part of caring for someone, perhaps even loving them. She knew she cared a great deal for Anya, far more than she probably should. But her love for Anya was different than how she had loved Costia, still loved Costia if she was willing to be truthful with herself. There was still a part of herself buried so deeply within her bones and trapped in the beats of her heart that still belonged to Costia. And Anya...Anya was anything but stupid, she was sure the general knew it, and accepted it; content with what Lexa was willing to give. And Lexa gave her all of the safe pieces of herself. The most turbulent and beautiful pieces had always been reserved for Costia. 

As the familiar sounds of the camp settling down for the evening started to soothe her troubled mind there was a commotion at the tent’s entrance. She heard Indra raising her voice to a snarl of anger then a man shouldered his way past her guards. 

Lexa was up in a flash, dagger already in hand and ready to strike, then as he dropped to his knees in front of her she registered the fabric around his upper arm that marked him as one of Anya’s men. He was coated in grime and blood and a powdering of ash had turned his hair to an early grey.

“Heda,” he gulped for air and shivered under her icy stare, “the others...the  _ skai gada _ burned them all, they’re all gone.” 

Lexa had to lock the muscles in her back to keep herself upright. Three hundred of her warriors burned alive. And Anya. She could not lose Anya. She couldn’t.

“Then the  _ Maunon  _ came. I saw the sky children come out of their metal box with the General among them... _ Maunon _ took them all.”

Lexa’s heart had ripped open at the thought Anya was dead. Now she was left wondering which fate was worse.

* * *

 

Growing light pried Clarke’s eyelids open and she stirred unwillingly. The air was cold against her exposed face and her skin felt slightly damp with something icy and not at all pleasant. Grumbling, refusing to concede victory to besieging daylight, she shifted more comfortably into the mass of heat at her back, feeling a gentle pressure increase against her chest, making her flesh tingle pleasantly under all her clothes. 

She began to drift back to sleep, a questing yet familiar hand fondling her breast softly, the woman she was sharing the bedroll with and the faceless one haunting her dreams merging as a bulging erection pressed into the small of her back, hot and insistent and throbbing with the promise of release.

Warm breath puffed against her ear, making her baby hairs quiver and the arm sheltering her tightened its hold and perhaps for the first time since she had set foot on Earth, the abandonment that came with sleep was a relief rather than a worrisome time full of unknown terrors. 

Her breast was squeezed almost painfully and Clarke’s eyes snapped open with a sharp intake of breath, the wintry air spearing down her throat like liquid fire, scorching her tongue and scouring the nerves inside her teeth. 

“Lexa….” The moan took flight behind her, fluttered above her head and burst the bubble of sleep that still contained her, and just like that Clarke was wide awake, conscious that the hand groping her was not an imagined one, but Anya’s.

Her body’s reaction was delightful and repulsive at the same time, and swept up by panic like one of the leaves falling around them as the cold season approached, she whirled around, trying at the same time to do so slowly with the result that her body half twisted, half tangled in the sleeping bag and she collapsed on her back with a loud grunt, as Anya’s hand fell away and mocha colored eyes blinked open and transfixed hers, initial confusion bleeding into panic. The warrior reddened and stuttered an apology, jerking back and letting a draft of cold air wedge itself between them like an invisible wall. 

It was the farthest away from composed Clarke had seen her and it would have been funny to witness, if she wasn’t so preoccupied with her own body’s betrayal. The blonde averted her gaze demurely, fixing it onto her lap as she sat up, the combined heat of their bodies rapidly dispersing, and she fended off Anya’s deluge of apologies with a shrug.

“It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

It was everything.

Or rather, Clarke didn’t know exactly what it was, she thought as she kicked off the blankets and scrambled up, trying to smooth clothes irreparably creased by sleep. She could feel a pressure build between her eyes and glimpse flashes of it, curling like tattered red rags around her ribs. It wasn’t anger, not exactly, yet something equally as warm and it coiled inside her gut, spreading outwards. 

It held her in a vice for a moment that seemed to stretch beyond the horizon, and as it slowly released her, she felt suspended on the brink of something momentous whether disaster or not she could not tell. 

She rolled the blankets up brusquely as Anya busied herself with their cold breakfast, neither willing to meet the other’s gaze and both of them clearly struggling to put order in the chaos of their thoughts. 

Clarke felt loose and untethered, the same way she’d felt when she’d first woken inside the Mountain with no idea of where she was. She shied away from memories drenched in primal fear and the possibility of grief, and the grit of burial seemed to crunch between her clenching jaws as she tried to make sense of her reactions. The warmth that had previously spread between her legs and grown to furnace-like heat, had dwindled down to an unpleasant dampness and she shifted, trying to adjust her clothes  _ down there _ discreetly, realizing what had been sinking its claws into her was nothing other than jealousy.

She shook her head ruefully as she squatted down next to the remnants of the evening fire and accepted her ration of cured beef and hard bread from Anya. The woman gave her a puzzled frown and for a moment Clarke feared she’d have to come up with some explanation for the bemused smirk she felt growing on her lips, but Anya simply settled down beside her, not quite invading her personal space, but close enough that Clarke could feel the warmth coming off her. 

The blonde shot Anya a wondering look when she was sure the woman wasn’t looking, the name she’d uttered that of an obvious lover. But really what place did she have being jealous? And what madness had come to possess her that she should feel that way? Anya was the enemy.

And yet as they broke camp without breaking the quiet and the Grounder helped her onto the horse in front of her, Clarke couldn’t help but look at her under a different light.

Whatever Anya had been, they had escaped the Mountain together and saved each other’s lives in the process. Perhaps she was mistaking what she felt - after all hardship was bound to make people grow closer.

Her mind circled around the puzzle of her feelings without Clarke being able to make heads from tails of it for quite some time, but as the plodding horse brought them closer and closer to their destination, disquiet settled at the bottom of her stomach and she rubbed at her wrists, moments of freedom dwindling around her. 

She fancied Anya’s arm tightening reassuringly around her midriff, but knew it wasn’t more than wishful thinking.

Soon she would go back to being a prisoner. 

* * *

The low murmur started as soon as they set foot into the village. Anya ignored it as she tightened her fist around the rope leading a bound and gagged Clarke. They had left the horses at the edge of a village that had swelled to twice its usual size, a wide ring of tents having been erected around the houses. But  i t rolled over itself and picked up force, from a trickle to an avalanche of sound. People jeered at the blonde, the warriors rattling spears on bucklers in scorn. Sensing a dangerous shift in the crowd’s mood, Anya began to drag her along a bit quicker and she was relieved when the girl trotted at her side without pause. Perhaps she felt the danger too. She had not expected people to know who Clarke was, and despite the relief at the knowledge that some of her men had survived she felt unease too. They had been gone long enough that whatever story the survivors had told would have changed to something other, and she feared the influence that may have on Lexa. She’d wanted to be the one to tell the events to their  _ Heda _ , as close as possible to how they’d happened. 

When it became apparent she was headed straight for  _ Heda _ ’s tent, some of the warriors formed into two lines, that she was forced to push carefully through, lest she started a scuffle. At first she thought (naively she would admit later to Lexa)  they only wanted a better look at the  _ Skai Prisa _ , but then the rope she was holding gave an unexpected tug, almost flying from her grip, and she twisted around ready to berate Clarke, only to find the blonde of her knees as one of the men was drawing his leg back for another vicious kick. 

Judging from the way the girl held her arms around her ribs, it wasn’t the first blow, only the most violent and Anya felt something inexplicable gnaw at her guts as she realized that Clarke had fallen without making a sound. Spit dripped down the side of her face, and by the time the older woman had roughly shouldered her way through the raging warriors, blood was caking her temple too.

“ _ Em pleni! _ ” Her voice cracked over the assembled crowd’s head like a whip and the angry shouts died down. She shoved the warrior that had been about to kick Clarke away from the girl roughly and shot  a feral snarl toward the others. Her hands were gentle when she placed them under the blonde’s elbows helping her up.

Clarke resisted the urge to sag against Anya in relief, and straightened carefully, signaling minutely to the woman that she could stand on her own. She held herself as proudly as she could, treating the gag and the rope as if they were fine ornaments instead of a symbol of her captivity

Some in the crowd obviously took it as arrogance and resumed their furious muttering, but Clarke was past caring. She’d stayed on her feet as long as she had been able, doing her best to ignore the sinking feeling that Anya was going to let her get beaten to death. When one particularly hard blow had sent her down to her knees, she’d bitten into the gag to not cry out. For all she knew the other Delinquents may be dead and she was not about to dishonor them or herself by letting these people see the weakness she carried in her heart. Her little time with Anya had shown her that grounders above all respected strength, so that was what they were gonna get from her. Besides she had seen admiration flicker briefly in Anya’s eyes as the woman helped her up, and it had made her lightheaded, the pain of the new bruises something easily discarded.

At the end of the gauntlet Lexa waited,  happiness at seeing that Anya was alive and well at odds with the anger that threatened to spill out of her at the sight of the  _ skai gada _ . The survivor’s description matched her word for word. The Commander couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, in a way that was softer and more refined than what she was used to seeing. Some would have said the fair hair and pale skin made her look fragile, but one glance into eyes so blue they reminded Lexa of hyacinths in bloom made her reconsider. 

The next moment those indigo depths frothed closed above her head and she felt like she was drowning.  

When she could regain control of her breathing, Anya was almost in front of her and she whirled around imperiously, stalking her way inside the command tent. Nobody had caught the minor hitch of her breathing, the momentary lapse in judgement and by the time Anya had joined her inside, the prisoner at her side, Lexa was sitting on her throne, the solid wood under her hands a boost for recovering confidence. 

Anya gripped one of the girl’s shoulders with her hand and forced her on her knees, but Lexa didn’t miss that the General was being uncharacteristically gentle. But the thick streaks of blood snaking their way down the blonde’s face shoved a fistful of guilt down her throat, which was quickly swallowed when she caught the way Anya stared down at the prisoner. It wasn’t fondness, not quite, and yet there was a new light in those familiar eyes, a spark that tamed their wildness into something brighter and more kind. 

“Remove the gag.” She ordered cooly, setting unpleasant thoughts aside for later. Anya obeyed quickly and Lexa watched in silence as the girl worked the stiffness out of her jaws. 

“So,” she twirled a dagger between her fingers, head averted slightly so that the blonde could not see she was still gazing at her. People gave away much more when they thought they weren’t watched. “you are the one that burned three hundred of my warriors alive.”

“And you are the one that sent them to kill us.” The girl’s voice was low and cracked, skirting towards husky and it sent a shiver down her spine. Before Lexa could construct an appropriate reply Indra, who had been like a silent stormfront by her side, snarled her way down the length of the tent, baring her sword and looked ready to strike the girl down on the spot. 

Anya winced inwardly at the steel lacing Heda’s words. She knew Lexa well and behind the collected mask, her green eyes were those of a predator on the hunt, as if she was stalking Clarke. The way she fidgeted with her favorite knife was usual - trim your nails in front of people with a knife she’d told her once, and people will find it incredibly unnerving. But at the sparks of defiance alighting in Clarke’s voice her facade had cracked and anger slipped through briefly. 

Before she could find something, anything to say to defuse the situation, Indra leaped from Lexa’s side, weapon glinting weakly in the tinted sunlight filtering into the tent. The other General moved with grace borne of years of practice and the rictus of fury twisting her mouth made Anya’s head buzz with Bren’s warning. She threw off the shame that had weighed down her shoulders since she’d set foot inside the tent and strode forward to stand between the girl and Indra’s avatar of vengeance. Her eyes darkened with a harshness more enduring than the oldest, most gnarled tree in the forest, and she ever so slowly balled her hands into shaking fists. Her body shifted naturally, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet, ready to spring at the merest provocation. To her surprise she found her resolve coalesce around the fact that she would not let any harm come to Clarke, because no matter what the war had forced on them,  the girl was honorable and if Lexa decided for her death, she would ask to be the one that gave it to her - a warrior’s death, not the common, disgusting,  _ repulsive  _ one reserved for traitors and vagrants. 

“Hod op!” Her command was quiet, but effective and Indra froze, sword half drawn, and Anya stilled also, her eyes glued to the General’s. She couldn’t afford to tear her gaze from Indra’s, her eyes promising retribution if the other woman continued on her course against Clarke. 

Lexa sat rigidly in her throne, acid curdling in her stomach. She grit her teeth, refusing to betray her own upset with even a wince. She calmly pushed herself to her feet and walked down the dais, between Anya and Indra. Both generals immediately bowed their heads and backed up, stepping aside until Lexa was standing in front of Clarke. She let her gaze rove over the girl’s face and hair. She had to admit she was even more beautiful this close, and her eyes burned with blue fire, and Lexa found herself slightly intrigued. She had heard about this girl who had fallen from the stars with a group of other boys and girls. Many had died, too weak to adapt to life on the ground. Too weak and foolish, but this girl, this girl showed uncommon strength among the group. True, she was as if a young  _ goufa _ , but she had potential. 

Lexa stared at her thoughtfully, not sure what to do with her at this point. She was an intruder, an invader, except by all accounts, none of those who had arrived knew that there was still life on the ground, which called into question exactly why they had come. If they believed that there was no life on the ground, why had they come? Had they come to die? 

She continued to stare at the girl, never letting her gaze fall, and she had to admit to the fissure of admiration she felt as the girl refused to wither under her gaze. “Indra, have a tent erected next to Nyko’s. We will keep her there for now.” She didn’t bother to look if Indra obeyed her, she knew she would. She returned to her seat on the throne, gesturing for Anya to pull the girl to her feet. 

“So tell me, Clarke of the Sky People, what should I do with you? Hmmmmm?” She tapped her fingers on the smooth wood of her throne, curious as to what excuse this girl would provide to save her own skin. 

Clarke winced as Anya pulled her to her feet, but she was grateful for the steadying hand at her back before it fell back to Anya’s side, but it was a gesture not missed by the keen and knowing gaze of the Heda. 

“We can help you. Your people are being held prisoner in the mountain,” she hesitated and looked briefly at Anya who gave her the barest of nods. 

“Your people are being drained of their blood, the Mountain is using it as medicine. And...and when they are done draining them of blood,” she swallowed thickly, bile rising in her throat as she remembered the bodies so carelessly thrown down the chute as if they weren’t human, as if they were truly nothing more than blood bags; “they throw their bodies down chutes, and the Others come to collect them.” 

“The others?” Lexa looked to Anya, not sure what the girl meant. 

Anya swallowed hard, gritting her teeth. She could feel the anger simmering in her blood and she nodded harshly, “The  _ ripas _ ,  _ Heda _ . They collect the bodies, and sometimes…” she clenched her fists tightly, reveling in the feeling of her nails piercing her skin. “Sometimes they aren’t fully dead yet. The ripas feast on their flesh,  _ Heda _ .” She barely managed to get the words out, so angry, so shaken was she by what she had seen. 

Lexa felt the words like a blow to her heart. Her hands tightened on the armrests of her throne, and she barely held back a roar of rage. The  _ ripas _ were eating her people. They were eating their own kin, they brothers and mothers, perhaps even their own children. The Mountain had turned her people into an abomination, and she could feel the vomit rising quickly in her throat. But she was saved from speaking when Indra returned with two guards. 

“The tent is ready,  _ Heda _ .” Indra bowed stiffly, refusing to look at Anya, and when  _ Heda _ nodded, she waved to the two guards to take Clarke to the tent. 

“She is not to be harmed, Indra. Patch her up and feed her.” 

Anya sighed in relief, but stiffened the moment her eye’s met Lexa’s knowing look. 

Indra nodded and left the tent with the two guards and Clarke. 

* * *

 

Once outside the tent, Indra sent one guard to fetch Nyko to patch the girl up, and the other guard to gather some food. She grabbed Clarke’s arm and pulled her along swiftly towards the healer’s tent, but after Clarke had stumbled more than once, she grumbled under her breath and eased up her pace. 

“Thank you,” muttered Clarke as she stared down at the ground. Her head was swimming, and she was sure she was going to vomit at any moment. 

Indra didn’t bother to respond, her anger simmering just below the surface. She didn’t understand why  _ Heda _ hadn’t already killed the girl or the rest of her people. They were foreigners, and despite being so young and ignorant of how to live off the land, they had still managed to burn down Anya’s village and kill 300 of Heda’s warriors. She didn’t know if it was sheer luck or some sort of divine providence that had allowed these  _ Skai Goufas _ to live so long. 

She stared straight ahead, her grip around Clarke’s arm firm, and her hand on the pommel of her sword. She could hear the mutterings as they walked through the village, her village, and she ignored them, but she made note of each voice, and every person who stepped into her peripheral vision to get a better look at the blonde invader. As much as she wanted to feed her to the dogs, she had been given her orders by  _ Heda _ . No harm was to come to her. For now. Her lip curled at the thought. 

They were only twenty feet from the newly erected tent, when she saw the hulking shadow emerge from around a hut, and step in front of the girl’s path. Indra stiffened, her hand tightening around Clarke’s arm, as she pulled the girl a little closer to her body, and took a step forward, placing herself slightly in front of the girl. 

She eyed the huge man, noting his large muscles, the chains in his armor. His head was shaved, and his tattoos marked him as a member of a different warband. There was a bow and quiver bristling with arrows slung across his back and a long, wicked dagger at his belt. But it was his eyes that marked him as dangerous. They held nothing but violence and rage. 

She stared at him, refusing to be the first to speak. It took her a moment, but she placed him. Quint. If she remembered correctly, he’d had a twin brother. A brother who had fought for Anya and  died in the  _ Skai Goufa _ ’s ring of fire. 

Quint nodded at Indra respectfully. She was the chief of this village, and one of  _ Heda _ ’s greatest warriors. They had met a few times, and even fought by each other’s side when the needs of the growing Coalition had demanded the  _ Trikru _ warbands to march. “Chief Indra.” 

He waited for her to respond, and when she simply arched her eyebrow slightly, he felt his anger boil. He clenched his teeth, realizing that while Indra recognized him, she wasn’t going to acknowledge him. He tamped down his anger, knowing he needed information from her. “So this is the  _ Skai _ girl, their leader?” 

Indra simply stared at him, knowing why he’d confronted them, but not giving him the satisfaction. He was led too easily by his anger, and he was going to make trouble for  _ Heda _ . And despite understanding his desire to kill the girl on the spot, she would not defy her  _ Heda _ , even if that meant crossing swords with every warrior in her village. 

Quint shifted carefully, his jaw working. “Where are you taking her?” He barely restrained his growl of frustration when Indra’s hand only tightened on her sword’s hilt, as she stared at him imperiously. “Is  _ Heda _ going to put her on a tree?” He spit out, his violent eagerness overcoming his good sense. He reached down and caressed his dagger with large, thick fingers as he stared hatefully at Clarke. 

He took a small step forward, his lips pulled back in an ugly sneer. “I know what you are, and I know what you did.  _ Heda _ will string you on a tree, and I will make the deepest cut,” he chuckled as Clarke blinked rapidly, her lower lip quivering for half a moment, before she caught it with her teeth, gathered her courage, and glared up at Quint. 

He snarled and dropped his head closer to Clarke’s only to choke as he felt the pinpoint of cold steel at his throat. He flickered his eyes upward, meeting Indra’s impassive, dark gaze. 

“Back. Up.” She enunciated each word carefully, her voice laced with frost. He barely swallowed as he managed to shuffle backwards, his hands flexing in anger. 

“Heda’s plans are not for you to know,” growled Indra as she pulled back her dagger. “Now leave.” 

Quint snarled again, but before he could confront Indra again, Nyko approached. 

“So this is the girl?” He nodded to Indra and gestured for her to follow him into his hut. “Come. I will tend to her.” He ignored Quint as he stepped around him, and grasped Clarke by the upper arm and pulled her towards the hut, but his touch was a little more gentle, and Clarke’s head fell forward again as she tiredly put one foot in front of the other. 

The second guard approached, holding a steaming bowl of stew and a chunk of bread, and Indra waved him towards Nyko. She watched them go before turning her attention back to Quint. She tapped the tip of her dagger against her hand and stared at Quint who was still glaring after Nyko and Clarke. When he turned back around, he shook with barely restrained rage. “That’s it? She is to be bandaged and healed. Fed? She is going to eat the food our people scraped from the earth!? She killed my brother! She burned him to ash! Blood must have blood!” He hissed, frustration and pain coloring each word. 

“It is time for you to leave, Quint. Do not make me say it again.” 

He growled one last time, throwing a look of hate at Nyko’s hut, before retreating. Indra watched as he slipped through a narrow alley between two huts, his feet light and graceful despite his brutish size. She narrowed her gaze thoughtfully. As much as she agreed with him that Clarke needed to pay for her crimes, it was not her decision, nor his; and she knew he would cause nothing but grief. She growled in annoyance before turning on her heel, calling for some of her warriors. Perhaps a hunt would help her cool down. 

* * *

 

After Indra had sent him off, Quint had contented himself with hovering around the tent where the blonde had been taken, finally settling himself on a boulder from which he could keep an eye on the entrance. He had collected his armor from his own tent and began to polish it and check all of the leather buckles and straps for tear. It was something that needed to be done anyway and he knew that just sitting there doing nothing would make him look suspicious, especially after he’d provoked the prisoner on the way to her temporary “cell”. At first he could not believe, she’d get away with the blood she’d spilled without the Commander lifting a finger, but as the rage subsided, leaving room for colder calculation, he reasoned that was the only explanation. Why else would  _ Heda  _ waste resources on the girl, if she didn’t plan on keeping her alive?  

He grunted sourly, shifting on his precarious seat and glanced around. As it was, several other warriors were taking advantage of the pallid sun to carry chores similar to the one he was busy with in its warmth. He sighed warily, noting how the shadows had begun to reach out from beneath the trees already despite it not being much past midday yet. Soon the bad season would come and at the thought his younger brother would not see another winter, the anger that had been simmering in his gut since he’d first laid eyes on the  _ Skai Gada _ threatened to boil over. The hold he had on his pauldron tightened, the little metal discs sewn into the leather digging into his palm. There was a possibility he would not live to feel the bite of winter either, after carrying out his plan but Quint only cared about vengeance. Besides he’d heard the angry mutters among the warriors and some had even whispered the girl should be strapped to the pole and cut to death for what she’d done, so while his gesture may cause  _ Heda _ ’s wrath, some of the warriors could actually side with him afterwards. 

He spent some hours like that, puttering about camp but never straying too far from the captive’s tent, and busying himself with menial tasks. Eventually he had to give up his perch when he noticed one of the guards kept glancing in his direction, not wanting the man to alert Indra when she would inevitably make a round to check on the sentinels. As the shadows lengthened Nyko himself surprised him as he was carefully mapping out the area behind the healer’s and prisoner’s tents to see if he could cut his way inside. 

“Thinking of abandoning the warrior’s path, Quint?” Nyko’s dry question, was like a stab between the shoulderblades. Quint turned slowly and straightened with a neutral expression - he’d been stooped over, studying the piece of open ground between the tents and the edge of the woods. pondering the best approach.

“No  _ Fisa _ .” Quint struggled to push down a sneer and maintain a pleasant facade. He’d met the healer on a few campaigns and while he didn’t doubt his skill he’d never liked Nyko and he knew the man would report his presence if he felt the warrior was a threat. Nyko was always like that, obeying orders to the letter. 

“Then perhaps you feel unwell? It is getting colder and the first seasonal illnesses are making the rounds,” a small smirk appeared on Nyko’s lips, but did not reach his eyes, “I could brew you something.” 

Quint raised his hands and grimaced, taking an involuntary step back - Nyko’s remedies were infamously foul tasting, so much so that even the strongest warriors prayed to never get so sick they needed them.

“Appreciate your concern Nikou, but I assure you I am fine, “ he made a show to take a long sniff of the evening air, “perhaps I should get something from the cooking fires.”

“Perhaps you should.” Nyko agreed and Quint nodded respectfully before moving off to do just that. He felt the healer’s scalding gaze on his back every step of the way and gritted his teeth as he joined the queue of warriors lining up for the evening meal. He took his ration of rabbit stew and bread and sat within a circle of sullen men, who were muttering about the sky invaders and  _ Heda _ ’s prisoner. 

One of the warriors nodded in his direction. “Say Quint, is it true your brother was among the dead?” His mood instantly soured further, he’d had no intention to join the discussion, only wanting to gather an impression of the mood among the others, but now the entire group’s eyes were focused on him, as the men waited for an answer.

“Him and many others,” he grunted finally. 

“War is always a sad business,” the man shook his head ruefully, a flicker of grief crossing his battle scarred face. 

Quint stood abruptly, so fast the half finished bowl of stew he was holding went flying, splattering the nearby men before tumbling to the ground.

“War?” he seethed, fists clenching at his sides so hard his knuckles felt like they were about to splinter, “the invaders hid behind their metal walls and burned our brothers alive. They are cowards just like  _ Maunon _ !” His last words were a hiss and a challenge, daring any of the others present to voice a different opinion.

The man who had spoken first picked bits of spilled stew off his front before raising his eyes to meet Quint’s thunderous glare. 

“Peace friend,” he said soothingly, “my words were not meant to offend.”

“Measure them better next time then.” Quint bared his teeth in snarl, before turning on his heels and marching off into the night. His stomach rumbled, but his mouth tasted like the ashes of the dead and the thought of eating something else made his insides churn with acid. 

He’d gone to the battle site after he’d heard of the survivor that had made it to  _ Heda _ , and it had been a mistake. He was used to a kind of violence that soaked the earth in blood and carpeted the soil with viscera, but still left bodies one could mourn and properly send off on the funeral pyre. The clearing around the sky invaders’ camp had been different, meat and bones reduced to a grit so fine by the unimaginable heat that they’d looked like greasley sand. Bits of armor and weapons bent to phantasmagorical shapes remained, and the occasional bone fragment had cracked beneath his feet. He’d felt nauseous, there had been nowhere he could walk without stepping on the dead, as if the  _ skai gada _ had lit a giant funerary fire, then fed three hundred souls to it. 

Quint remembered falling on his knees, his fingers frantically sifting through inches of the stuff in search of something, anything that belonged to his brother. When he’d fished out part of a jaw, strands of overcooked meat still clinging to the blackened bone he had retched, then fled the cursed place. 

He tasted bile at the back of his throat and shook his head, slinking back from the lights of the fires and the company of the others as he focused his mind on the task of vengeance he had set for himself. 

Quint walked to the edge of the camp that had been erected to surround TonDC, slipping into the breathing exercises that allowed him to clear his mind of any thought that could break his concentration, then when he was sure nobody was looking he crossed into the woods, merging with the shadows.

He passed by the sentries as quiet as night itself, timing any movement that could produce a noise with the sighing of the wind between the branches. Soon enough he had circled around the back of the village and the healer’s tent came into view, a dark structure against a backdrop darker still. 

Quint lowered himself to an easy crouch, using the bushes dotting the spaces between the trees as cover. Nobody looking in his direction from the village would be able to spot him, and the position wouldn’t tire him too much since he would have to wait until the camp quietened down to carry out his plan.

Little by little human-made sounds dimmed, replaced by the calls of nocturnal animals and the soft pattering of rain, drizzling down from above. The grin that illuminated his features for an instant was feral and he brimmed with satisfaction. Rain would keep the sentries close to the fires - they would do their rounds sure, but hurry back to warmth and light as soon as possible (and who wouldn’t really). He could not have chosen a better night for murder. 

As the chill of the night began to seep into his bones he stood, and carefully made his way towards the back of the prisoner’s tent. The night was so devoid of light that he could not see the ground at  his feet, or the knife he gripped in his hand. He moved by memory alone and when he was sure he had gone the right distance he slowly extended his free hand, fingers brushing against icy oilcloth. 

He lifted the blade and as the first peal of thunder crashed overhead, slashed an opening into the cloth, wiggling inside noiselessly. Lightning flashed, brightening the night for an instant in searing clarity and the glow filtered inside the tent. It lasted the space of a breath, but it was enough for him to see the girl reclined against a tent post in the abandonment of sleep, the only thing holding her upright the ropes that wound around her waist. Her hands were also tied in front and rested on her lap and he knew that restrained as she was, she’d offer little resistance. 

The interior of the tent was a flickering after-image as he glided forward, pushing his knife back into the sheath at his waist. He’d toyed with the idea of simply slitting her throat, but if he was lucky he’d manage to slip away as he had come, the guards outside none the wiser, and blood tended to be a clear sign of foul play. 

He got so close he could actually feel her even breathing stir the air softly, and he let the quiet sound of her exhales guide his hands, reaching out and snapping them shut around her throat. He could not see her, but he felt the beat of her heart falter, then turn frantic against the palm of his hand as he began to squeeze. 

She thrashed awake with a wheeze and began to struggle, but he was bigger and heavier and his body pinned her bound arms between the two of them. Still, he was surprised when her wiggling caused one of her knees to dig into his side and he grunted, flinching away in surprise more than pain. 

Suddenly her hands were on his face, fingers scratching bloody gouges into his cheeks, sliding against his nose as his own hands contracted choking the life out of her, crushing her windpipe closing inexorably under the pressure. He would kill her, the fucking bitch that burned his brother, he would…

Pain erupted in streaks of red across his vision as her clawing fingers found his eye, digging cruelly in a last ditch effort at self-defence. 

Quint forgot about stealth and roared at the unexpected agony, his hands slackening and her roughened voice, hoarse and broken shattered the night into a thousands screams.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is sex in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've updated the tags. Nobody panic yet.

“So...this skai girl…” Lexa let the words trail off as she stared at Anya who had shrugged out of her jacket and was now pulling her shirt over her head. She couldn’t help but admire her lover’s taught abdomen as it came into view, and she was tempted to reach out and touch it, but now wasn’t the time. It had become abundantly clear to her that she and Anya had some unfinished business.

Anya froze for a moment, before finally managing to wiggle out of the shirt that she then threw carelessly into the corner. She stepped closer to Lexa, carefully backing the smaller woman into the alcove of the tent where she slept. She reached out for Lexa, wrapping her arms around her waist and nuzzling her neck, trailing kisses down it and across her collarbones. 

“What about her?” She murmured as she slid her hands up over Lexa’s belly and breasts to rest her palms on her shoulders, before sliding them down, drawing her coat off of her. She tossed it aside, before dropping her hands to the pants that Lexa wore. Her long fingers made quick work of the belt and laces, and she pulled them down the girl’s long legs. Once Lexa had stepped out of them, she stayed on her knees and kissed her way up strong calves and shapely thighs, licking and nipping. 

“Who is she?” She knew who the girl was, but what she didn’t know, what she needed to know was who was the girl to Anya. Lexa stared straight ahead, refusing to look down at Anya.  She didn’t want to be distracted, despite allowing Anya to continue touching her. She could feel herself reacting to Anya’s touch, but she could feel her irritation growing as it was more than clear that the general didn’t want to talk about the girl. Anya was known for being direct, a little too direct, and for her to be so circumspect about this girl...Lexa grit her teeth in growing irritation.

Anya sighed and stood up, pushing Lexa back until she sat on the bed. She kissed her, pressing her body into Lexa’s, making the younger girl move back on the bed. She felt Lexa’s hand tangle in her hair, and she smiled as she nipped at her chin, but the smile quickly turned into a grimace as Lexa tugged sharply. 

“She is Clarke kom Skaikru. You know this, Lexa,” she growled in irritation. “She is their leader, and now she is your prisoner,” she muttered softly as she looked away for a moment, uncomfortable at the thought of the girl being a prisoner. She pushed her from her mind, turning her attention back to Lexa. The less she thought about the blonde the better, but even as she leaned down and pressed her mouth to Lexa’s, her tongue delving deeply into Lexa’s mouth, all she could see behind her closed eyes were blue eyes, and she wondered how the girl would taste on her tongue. 

Lexa jerked her head away, laughing sharply. “I know this. But who is she,” Lexa grabbed Anya by the back of the neck and stared hard at her, “to you?” 

Anya froze, her mouth open slightly. She hadn’t expected that question, and she had been sure that she had managed to keep her interest in the girl hidden. Not that she was entirely sure what that interest was. All she knew was that the girl made her uncomfortable, uncomfortable in a way that only Lexa had ever managed to do. 

“Nothing. She is nothing to me,” choked out Anya, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew it was a lie, and as she stared at Lexa, she knew that Lexa also knew it was a lie. 

Lexa stared at her for a moment, her face completely devoid of any emotion before she nodded, and Anya felt a momentary thrill of fear burn at the base of her spine. Lexa was her lover, but now...now, it was Heda in her bed. But she was quickly pulled from her thoughts as Lexa’s hands slid down her neck and across her bindings and down her back. 

Anya groaned as Lexa grabbed her ass, and she could feel herself harden completely. The tightness in her pants was becoming painful, and she shuddered at the feel of her cock rubbing against her pants. She slithered down, kissing Lexa’s belly before she was nestled between her legs. She licked her lips when Lexa’s legs fell open for her, and she leaned in, sliding her tongue between her lover’s folds and dipping into her slick entrance. She hummed at the taste, and she pressed her face between Lexa’s legs, pushing her tongue hard against Lexa’s clit. She sucked it into her mouth, circling it with the tip of her tongue before flicking it. It plumped and hardened, and she groaned at the feel of the swollen bud pulsing against her tongue. She felt Lexa shudder, and she grinned wickedly as she sucked harder at her clit. 

She figured it probably wouldn’t take much to make Lexa come the first time, after all they had been separated for weeks, and Lexa had never been particularly interested in self-pleasure, not unless Anya was also involved. It was only another minute before she heard the tell-tale almost breathless whimper that Lexa always released letting Anya know she was right on the edge. 

She slid one finger into Lexa, not giving her any warning, and she whimpered at the feel of the slick velvet squeezing around her finger, and she imagined how much better it would feel to sink her cock deep inside of Lexa. She curled her finger and pumped in and out, as Lexa groaned and instinctively tried to draw her deeper into her warm sex. 

She smiled against Lexa’s slick sex when she felt hands grasp at her head and pull her tighter against Lexa. She slid a second finger inside of Lexa’s warmth and sucked her clit a little harder into her mouth, and when she felt Lexa’s hips jerk and heard the tiny whimpers spilling from Heda’s mouth, she pressed hard against Lexa’s front wall and ground her tongue against Lexa’s clit. She was rewarded when she felt Lexa cum, and tasted the sweet musk that spilled from her. 

She withdrew quickly though, not letting Lexa fully ride out her orgasm, and she chuckled when Lexa growled and nudged Anya’s face with her knee. She slid one wet finger underneath Lexa, her finger probing gently at her small starburst. She pressed lightly and circled the sensitive flesh, before pressing just the tip of her finger inside. She smiled as it slid in, and she just managed to restrain herself from sliding all the way inside. She withdrew, smiling at the small whimper. 

She slid up between Lexa’s hips, pressing herself against Lexa’s wet sex while she nipped and licked along her collarbone. She pressed her hips down harder, grinding her bulge between Lexa’s legs, before pulling up and reaching over the small chest that sat next to the bed. She yanked open the top with one hand and searched quickly, her fingers snagging over leather satchels and a small knife before they closed around a small clay pot. She smiled victoriously and sat back on her heels, tearing at the laces at the front of her breeches, still holding the pot in her other hand. 

She groaned when her member sprung free, and wrapped her hand around it, pumping it once and then twice. She smoothed the beads of pre-cum over her length, but it wasn’t enough, so she pried open the cover on the pot, and dipped her fingers into the silky liquid. 

Since Anya had been gone for weeks, and it had been far too long since she’d been inside of Lexa’s wet heat, she knew she wouldn’t be able to pull out quickly enough to prevent from spilling her seed into Lexa. Grounder birth control wasn’t particularly reliable, so grounders often practiced a different method of preventing pregnancy. 

“Roll over,” she muttered to Lexa as she spread the liquid over her throbbing cock, her eyes fluttering closed briefly as she pumped her cock again as she set the pot aside. 

“No.” 

Anya froze for half a beat. No? She grimaced as she looked down in Lexa’s face, seeing the hard lines instead of her usual soft smirk. She tried to contain her frustration as she wrapped her hands around Lexa’s hips and squeezed tightly in warning. 

“Why not?” She hissed.

“Because I don’t feel like it.” Lexa smirked at her, enjoying anger she could see building in Anya’s eyes, the way her fingers dug into her hips. She knew it was petty to deny her lover, especially after Anya had made her cum, although it had been cut short rather abruptly. And truthfully she had missed Anya and had been dreaming about being with the warrior again, about feeling their skin sliding against each other, about Anya moving inside of her. But then she had seen the way Anya had looked at the girl, and now...well now she didn’t want to examine her emotions too closely. It felt a lot like jealousy, not just anger. 

Anya snarled and pressed forward, her lips crashing against Lexa’s. There was no finesse, not softness to the kiss, just teeth and iron. Her tastebuds tingled at the salty rust, and she hissed when Lexa bit particularly hard on her lower lip. She let the smaller woman throw her off with a quick twist of her hips, and she lay there, her chest heaving as her breath spurted out in gasps. She choked as she felt Lexa’s hand close around her throat and squeeze. It wasn’t enough to truly hurt her, and she could still breathe. Her other hand dug into the skin of her chest, breaking the skin enough that blood seeped to the surface. The warning was clear. 

“You are mine, Anya. And I decide what I will give you. What I will allow you to take.” Lexa deliberately dragged her sex along Anya’s hard length, coating it in her wetness. She ached to simply take Anya inside her body, but she grit her teeth, refusing to allow herself the weakness of wanting Anya too much. Besides, her general needed a reminder as to who was Heda. 

She smirked as she ground down hard on the underside of Anya’s cock, enjoying the way the older woman bit her lip and tried to keep from jerking her hips upward. She could plainly read the struggle that played out in the shadows of her face, and it was only a few moments before she saw the general surrender. 

“Fine. But at least don’t leave me like this.” It was as close to pleading as Anya was going to give her, and she knew this battle was won, and it was time to accept her lover’s not so gracious capitulation. She leaned down, removing her hands from Anya’s throat and chest, dragging them down the length of her arms, until she found her hands down near her hips. She interlaced their fingers and pressed her hands down as she scooted backwards until she was straddling Anya’s thighs. 

She leaned down and licked up the underside of Anya’s hard cock, tasting herself on the older woman’s skin. She curled her tongue around the leaking head of her cock, dipping her tongue into the tiny divot that oozed even more pre-cum. She sucked the head, circling her tongue around and around, before nibbling her way down the length. She smiled at the way Anya’s hips twitched and jerked, at the way her fingers tightened around Lexa’s. 

“Stop teasing,” muttered Anya, her voice laced with irritated petulance. She’d been denied what she really wanted, and while this was better than nothing, she knew she had been put in her place, and she was at Lexa’s mercy. Normally, she didn’t mind, because there had been many times that Lexa had been pinned beneath her, writhing and moaning, begging in a broken tongue. 

But tonight was different. She could still feel the remnants of her anger burning in her chest, but something uncomfortable had taken up residence in her belly, and it had to do with the skai girl. She shook her head in frustration and tried to concentrate on the feel of Lexa’s wet tongue as it curled around her cock. She shuddered as she felt the pounding pressure building at the base, and she knew she wasn’t going to last much longer. 

She groaned as Lexa started sucking on the head of her cock. She jerked her hips, trying to bury her length in Lexa’s throat, but the brunette’s hand came up quickly, grasping her hip and pinning it to the bed. She could feel the heat curling in her belly, and the pressure building, until she groaned one last time and gasped, “Lexa, I-I’m going to cum.” 

Lexa smiled around Anya’s cock, quickly sliding down the full length and then pulling back up. She dragged her teeth over the head of Anya’s sensitive cock, knowing that Anya hated how it felt, but it never failed to make her cum. She jerked back just in time to avoid having her mouth filled, and she grinned in triumph as Anya’s cum splattered over her own chest. 

The moment Anya felt Lexa’s teeth scraping her cock, she snarled in both pain and pleasure, as her release ripped through her. She grit her teeth as hot pain pricked at her spine, followed by a wave of warmth traveling up her spine to splash at the base of her skull. Her muscles twitched violently, and she cursed Lexa even as she sunk almost bonelessly into the furs. Pain had never felt so good, and only Lexa had ever been able to give her both. 

Lexa rolled off of Anya’s legs, admiring her handiwork in the cum splashed all across Anya’s abdomen and chest. She stared at Anya’s now semi-limp cock, noticing that the tip of the head was already starting to show signs of bruising. She winced slightly, suddenly wishing she hadn’t been quite that mean. She didn’t know why she had done it, but as she looked up and met Anya’s eyes, she recognized it for the lie that it was. She knew exactly why she had done it. 

Anya had looked at the skai girl the way Lexa had once looked at Costia. And she supposed she had wanted to punish Anya, had wanted to remind Anya that she was Lexa’s. And Anya certainly wasn’t going to try and stick her cock in the skai girl. Not while it was bruised. 

She bit her lip and looked away before sighing and finally looking back up at Anya. The blonde’s eyes were glassy, shining slightly, and she was gripping the furs, her fists white. Blood was drying on her lips, and Lexa suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to apologize. But Heda never apologized. So instead, she reached up and cupped Anya’s cheek, turning the woman’s head towards her. She pressed her lips gently to the corner of her mouth, and then snuggled her face in the older woman’s neck. She breathed in deeply the smell of sweat and dirt and blood and forest. She kissed her neck softly, hoping Anya would understand that she was sorry, that she shouldn’t have been so rough. Not that rough sex was foreign to them, but it was rare that it was done out of frustration or anger. 

She relaxed slightly when she felt the lean arm come up and wrap around her. Anya understood. She was forgiven. 

They didn’t linger in bed for long, despite wanting to, but there was too much to do late hour and rain notwithstanding, and Anya would later thank the gods that she already had her clothing one when they heard the first screams. She and Lexa raced out of the tent when they heard the screams coming from the direction in which they had left Clarke tied up. Lexa was surprised that Anya beat her to the tent, dagger in hand as she ripped open the flaps. It only took a moment for Lexa to realize that the giant hulk bending over Clarke was Quint, and she probably shouldn’t have been surprised. His brother had burned in the ring of fire set by Clarke. 

But what did surprise her was the roar ripped from Anya’s throat as she threw down her dagger, and grabbed Quint by the back of his neck, bodily tearing him away from Clarke. The man was huge and Anya, in her fury, threw him several feet away before she pounced upon him. 

Lexa quickly looked at the quaking girl sprawled out in the dirt, noting the blood on her hands. She must have scratched at Quint’s face. And despite the fact that the girl was shaking, her gaze met Lexa’s, defiance gleaming in her cerulean eyes. Lexa couldn’t help but admire the girl’s grit. Perhaps Anya was right, the girl was far stronger than she looked. 

She positioned herself between Clarke and the duo fighting on the ground, as lightning flashed outside burning the scuffle into the back of her eyes,  and finally yelled for them to stop. But neither stopped, and she ground her teeth in anger, and strode over to the pair, kicking them both and ripping Anya away from Quint. She was shocked to see the fury twisting her lover’s face, and blood dripped from a cut on her cheek. She checked Quint who slowly rose to his feet, but she yelled for her guards before he could take another step. 

“Take him away. Put him in the stocks,” she growled as Quint cursed and struggled, but the two guards dragged him out of the tent. 

She turned and looked at Anya, who refused to meet her eyes. The taller woman shifted on her feet, and Lexa narrowed her eyes. She could tell that Anya wanted to check on Clarke so she gave her a short nod and gestured towards the blonde. She turned her back on them, her hands clasped behind her back, while she replayed the events in her mind. She could hear their whispered conversation, but couldn’t quite understand what was said. 

“Anya.” 

She turned when she felt Anya at her back, and she eyed her lover carefully. She seemed more composed now, although her eyes were still dark, and she could see that she had finally managed to contain her fury. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. 

“He will be punished for this,” she reassured both women. She looked at Clarke, “You may be a prisoner, but I ordered them no harm was to come to you. I will post more guards, who will do exactly as I say.” 

“I should stay here.” 

Lexa pulled her gaze from Clarke’s and stared solemnly at Anya. This was unexpected, and she barely managed to maintain her stoic facade. 

“No, you will not. I need to review a number of things with you. I will have Nyko come and check on her.” When Anya opened her mouth to protest, Lexa raised a hand, immediately silencing her. “It appears, Anya, that you and I have much to discuss.” Her voice dripped with innuendo, and Anya stiffened her back immediately, recognizing the dangerous tone in her Heda’s voice. 

“Come,” ordered Lexa, leaving no room for argument, but she could feel her lover’s reluctance at leaving, and something cold turned over in the Commander’s chest. 

Once outside, she sent for Nyko to check on Clarke and then walked to her tent in silence. Anya followed closely behind and once they were inside Lexa’s tent, she dismissed her guards. 

“He should be put on the tree.” 

Lexa stiffened slightly, before walking over to the small table and picking up the pitcher and two mugs. She poured the mulled wine into them and offered one to Anya. She stared at the older woman over the rim of her mug. 

“The punishment for his crime is the whip, not the tree,” she murmured quietly. She waited, watching carefully as the emotions tripped across Anya’s face. The older woman liked to think she could be just as stoic, solemn, just as unyielding as Lexa, but she wasn’t; and Lexa could clearly read her emotions: anger, lust, and fear. The fear surprised her the most. She could tell that Anya lusted after the girl, had realized it almost immediately, and she didn’t blame her. The girl was unique and beautiful. But the fear...something twisted in her belly and the wine soured in her mouth. Anya was afraid for the girl, which meant she cared for her. 

She carefully set the mug down and walked over to her throne, slumping down in it. She closed her eyes, but she didn’t open them when she felt warm fingers trail down her cheek. She would have smiled at the affectionate gesture, except she knew why Anya did it, and she proved it with her next words. 

“Please put him on a tree, or at least let me kill him,” Anya pleaded, “He doesn’t deserve to live.” 

“Doesn’t he?” murmured Lexa as she chuckled, but her laughter was void of humor. She was tired and worried. And if she were willing to admit it, she was afraid. This interloper had captured Anya’s interest, and if she were to capture her heart also? Lexa was under no illusion that she had Anya’s heart. She didn’t, just as Anya didn’t have her’s. They both understood this, understood that while they cared deeply for each other, neither loved each other the way Lexa had once loved Costia. But despite this, she wasn’t prepared to lose Anya to this foreigner, this invader, this girl from the stars. It would be better for Lexa to simply kill her and be done with it. Wipe these Skaikru from the face of the earth. They’d had their chance to live on the earth, but they had fled to the stars generations ago just in time to watch the world burn. 

********

Clarke watched from the floor as the Commander and Anya exited the tent, eyes narrowed and tearing up with the flickering light of the torches that the guards held aloft just outside the entrance. The falling rain made the flames hiss and coil around themselves, just like her stomach seemed on the verge of doing. 

Clarke recognized the first signs of shock settling in - a cold sweat dampened her brow, and she felt numb and chilled to the bone. Her limbs were seized by little tremors she could not keep under control, and she knew she should try and move to fight the symptoms, but instead laid on the canvassed floor, the last look Anya had shot her, full of fear and regret playing in a loop inside her mind. 

One of the guards poked his head inside, gave her an unreadable look then retreated, closing the tent’s flap, but the  cloth was twitched aside again after a few minutes and a broad-shouldered man stepped inside, a leather bag slung over his shoulder.

He was almost as tall as her assailant had been and Clarke scuttled backwards weakly until she felt a tent post press between her shoulderblades, suddenly afraid he’d come to finish the job. 

The man spared her a glance and gestured soothingly, before busying himself with lighting a brazier that Clarke hadn’t noticed before, too preoccupied with the Commander to really take a good look at her surroundings,  Coals began to burn cherry red and Clarke was grateful for the warmth, even though the chill that had lodged deep inside her didn’t thaw. 

The man’s beard glistened with trapped raindrops and when he turned towards her, his face was illuminated by the weak glow of the brazier and she realized with relief it was Nyko, the healer who had checked her up earlier that day. His was a hard face but kind, and she had not glimpsed hate in him since the beginning. just careful measuring. 

He crouched next to her and put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her down on the tent’s floor, then his fingers moved to the knife at his waist and, before she had the time to even think of doing anything, he’d sliced the ropes that bound her wrists and untied her. 

His teeth flashed white in the murkiness as he smirked at her gasp of surprise. “You won’t run, will you?”

Clarke shrugged. Even if she tried, she doubted she’d manage more than a few steps outside before the guards were on her. And if more people shared the mindset of the  one that almost killed her she’d be dead within minutes and the people still trapped inside the Mountain not long after that. 

He took her silence for agreement, and without much ceremony lifted her shirt to look for wounds or bruises. Clarke moved her hands weakly, clenching and unclenching her fists, and hissed in pain when blood began to flow back into her extremities. 

“Move them until the needles go away,” Nyko suggested, his calloused hand probing a tender spot along her ribs, “you were tied up for quite some time.”

“Ow.” Clarke clamped her teeth around her groan when his hand found a particularly nasty bruise and he snorted, pulling back and taking several stoppered vials out of his satchel. 

“Quint got worse,” he stated, giving a pointed look at her bloodstained fingers. 

Clarked looked down to her fingers, noticing the dirt and blood caked under her nails. She picked absently at her nails trying to scrape some of the drying blood from her cuticles. But she soon gave up, instead laying her head back down on the floor. She was so tired, exhaustion settling deep inside her bones. She could feel the cold from the earth seeping up through the tent, and she sighed as she felt it slip underneath her clothes, painting her skin in frost. She just wanted to sleep for days, for weeks. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a small smile played around the corners of her mouth. 

Nyko eyed the young blonde carefully, his brow furrowing when he realized she’d fallen asleep. He reached out and touched her cheek with his fingertips, surprised at how cool she felt. “ _ Skrish _ ,” he muttered as he rolled to his feet. The cold trembles were starting to wrack her frame, and he quickly threw open the tent flaps barking orders to one of the guards. 

Moments later the guard and a  _ seken _ returned, their arms full of furs. Nyko directed them to make a pallet near the brazier, and once they had finished, he shooed them out. He carefully scooped up the girl, and settled her on the fur pallet. He carefully stripped her of her shirt, leaving her in her bindings. He smeared a poultice across the heavy bruising along her ribs, before carefully wrapping them. He cleaned the other cuts on her hands, shaking his head in amusement when he realized that most of the blood wasn’t her own, but Quint’s. Despite being tied up, it appeared that she had defended herself rather well. 

Once he’d finished doctoring her bruises and cuts, he drew the furs over her small form, tucking them carefully around her. He sat back on his heels observing her quietly, remembering another night long ago, when he’d waited vigil by another young girl’s pallet. But that girl had been much younger, and she’d never opened her eyes again. He tidied up and slipped outside the tent, sending hs waiting apprentice to watch over her and ordering the guards to find him when she woke. 

************** 

Quint cursed and struggled as the guards forced him into the stocks.  He snarled and spit at the curious children who came a little too close. And he grinned crudely when their mothers came and shooed them back to their huts. His face itched, and he could feel the mask of blood drying. He could barely see, as the blonde mongrel had gone for his eyes, managing to scratch and gouge them. She had also managed to scratch her claws deeply down the side of his face. If he hadn’t hated her so much, he would have been slightly impressed with how quickly she had launched her own attack against him. 

One eye was entirely swollen shut, and the other watered and stung, and he was sure he could feel the blood still dripping from the cuts on his cheek. He sighed in anger, as he hung his head, feeling the welcome relief of the rain splashing against his neck and scalp. He had failed his brother, and he felt the shame burn through his muscles. A  _ goufa _ had managed to do him harm, and thwart his revenge. And he had directly disobeyed his  _ Heda _ . He grit his teeth in anger, and he spat hard on the ground, watching as the area slowly turned to mud from the pelting rain. If she had allowed him to revenge, the revenge he was entitled to, he wouldn’t have had to disobey her. 

He cursed again, the hate burning sharply in his chest. He flexed his hands, imagining the feel of her warm throat pressed into his palms. It was all the  _ skai _ mongrel’s fault and he would have his revenge. 

*********************  

Anya stared in dismay at Lexa, her brain whirling frantically as she tried to come up with an excuse as to why Quint didn’t deserve his revenge. She didn’t want to admit the truth, that Quint had been justified in seeking his pound of flesh for the death of his brother. It was their way after all. Quint’s only error had been going after the girl, after  _ Heda  _ had expressly stated she wasn’t to be harmed. 

“Quint has a lot of support,” murmured Lexa as she sipped from her glass. “He is hot-headed and prone to excessive violence, but he never leaves a brother behind. He never backs down.” 

Anya snorted in disgust, “And that will be his downfall.” She looked down into her cup, swirling the wine idly, glancing up occasionally at Lexa, who looked lost in thought. But looks could be deceiving, and Anya knew that Lexa was aware of her every movement, no matter how small or seemingly inconsequential. 

“You are going to punish him?” She asked carefully, flicking her eyes up at Lexa again. She debated whether she should continue, whether or not she should push. Would it be wise to remind Lexa that she couldn’t be seen as weak, she couldn’t grant mercy to someone who had directly disobeyed her, therefore ensuring that she would punish Quint? But that same reminder could also be used against Clarke, and the chances of Lexa showing Clarke any mercy would greatly diminish. 

Anya leaned back against the table, sipping at the wine, barely tasting it, as her mind whirled and formulated numerous plans only to discard them almost immediately. She sighed quietly, realizing her best option was to simply wait for Lexa to give at least some inkling as to what she was thinking. 

“Why the tree?” Lexa eyed Anya over the rim of her cup, smirking in triumph when she noticed her general stiffen, and then try to force herself to relax. She had grown accustomed to Anya’s quirks, her tells, her seeming inconsequential little gestures. Anya had never been particularly good at hiding herself from Lexa. And Lexa had always been very good at stripping Anya of her stoicism. 

Anya wasn’t fooled, for despite Lexa’s mild tone, Anya could hear the slight warning in the younger woman’s voice. Lexa had grown tired of the game, and now she wanted answers; answers that Anya wasn’t sure she could give. 

She set her cup down carefully, and  hated that it rattled softly against the tabletop, giving away a slight shaking of her hands. Anya looked at the scuffed wood intently, as if she could find a good answer written on it. When she lifted her gaze she found that Lexa hadn’t moved one inch and her green eyes had grown if anything even harder. Anya knew that logically she should want Clarke to be punished for the burning of her village and she remembered being angry with the girl, with all the invaders. She recalled tumbling inside their metal ship, swords bared and an anguished scream on her lips, ready to die and cut down as many of them as she could reach. 

The Mountain had changed everything. The horrors she’d seen inside it had put the clans’ squabbling into perspective and the fact that Clarke had helped her when she could have fled had birthed admiration inside her, a feeling that had only grown as they spent some time together. 

“Quint’s disobedience makes you look weak.” In the end she settled for a version of the truth Lexa would hopefully content herself with. 

“And Clarke’s actions don’t?” Lexa leaned forward, eyes narrowed. 

“ _ Sha _ ,” Anya admitted reluctantly, feeling as if a hole was opening under her chair, “they do.”  

“First your village, then my men. People whisper behind my back Anya and considering what you told me of the Mountain, I need the clans firmly by my side if I want to have even a remote hope to bring it down.” Lexa set her own cup down and moved behind Anya’s chair, placing her hands on the General’s shoulders to hold her still. She didn’t need to see her face to know the woman was torn between duty and the obvious worry she felt for the young  _ Skai Prisa _ .

“I will punish Quint,” Lexa let one of her hands fall away, “but Clarke needs to answer for the deaths she caused too.” She tightened her other hand on Anya’s shoulder for a moment, as if to help the message sink in, then removed it and took a step back. 

“You need the  _ Skaikru _ guns and knowledge to attack the Mountain, “ Anya’s voice was surprisingly cold and Lexa was proud of her General’s strength, even though she was also angry at her, “Clarke was leader of their  _ yongons _ . If you kill her they will never help, and you will have made a new enemy. You can’t afford to fight a war on two fronts, even if the skaikru are weak.” Anya snorted derisively, “their weakness makes them more dangerous.” 

Lexa circled around the chair again, a stalking wolf ready to pounce on their prey. Her General probably thought she had given away very little, but the Commander had seen the shadow that darkened Anya’s eyes whenever the Mountain had been mentioned. If it had been anyone else, even Indra she would have guessed fear, but she had learned that while she could be cautious, Anya was never fearful. 

Lexa knew that shadow intimately, because it had darkened her own eyes for quite some time after her Ascension, when she had been possessed by the conviction that if not for Luna’s refusal to fight in the Conclave, the clans would now have another  _ Heda.  _ Luna had been faster and stronger than her at the time and by fleeing she had probably saved Lexa’s life. 

And the new Commander had been filled with shame, the same shame that now lurked in the golden hazel of Anya’s eyes. 

Lexa thought she knew why. 

“I have only seen you defend people so strenuously when you felt you owed them, perhaps even admired them,” she lifted a hand for silence when she saw Anya was about to protest, “something happened inside the Mountain… she saved you didn’t she?”

Anya stood abruptly and turned to face her, but before the General could try to deny her suspicions there was movement at the tent’s entrance and a guard stepped inside hesitantly, looking from her to Anya and clearly wishing he was somewhere else.

“ _ Heda _ …” He trailed off, cast an annoyed look over his shoulder, then resumed, “I am sorry to barge in like this but the healer…” 

Nyko pushed past him and the guard took the chance to bow and retreat hurriedly, chased out almost at a full run by Lexa’s glare. The healer on the other hand seemed unfazed, perhaps even slightly amused, but it was hard to tell with him.

“Is it…?” Anya stopped herself short, struggling visibly not to make Clarke’s name, but Lexa heard it regardless. 

“The girl has the cold trembles and she is sleeping, but she is strong. I’ve sent one of my apprentices to watch over her for the rest of the night. They will come fetch me if anything changes.” 

The truth was the girl’s injuries weren’t really serious enough to warrant the ongoing attention of the village healer, the attention of the apprentices would do, but Nyko had quickly discerned that the girl was of some importance, perhaps even more importance than Heda was willing to admit. Besides...he was intrigued by this girl from the sky. And he was sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him, but it would appear that the General, at least, was also intrigued. 

“Thank you Nyko,” Lexa nodded, “would you see to Quint’s injuries?” She looked at Anya for a long moment, then hardened her heart, “I want them both ready to face judgement in a few days.” 

“Your will,  _ Heda _ .” He bowed and left them, and Lexa tried not to see the hurt that flashed through Anya’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This doesn't have sex. Please read it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off a quick note on the fic dynamic- we know so far you have not seen many clexa interactions, but we assure you they are coming! We really needed to build up where the characters were mentally and emotionally before the ot3 actually happens, in order to build the relationship in a believable manner. As a result this is a bit of a slow burn, but as the story progresses you will see the interactions evolve organically. Please have faith! 
> 
> Also a shoutout to Gillytweed who let Jude pick their brain about armor. Go read their fics - each and every one of them is fluffy and incredibly creative.
> 
> As usual we love hearing what you have to say about the story so let us know if you liked the chapter!

Two Days Later….

Lexa grunted as she raised her staff to block Anya’s downward swing, before twisting sharply out of the way, just barely avoiding Anya’s kick aimed for her knees. They’d been going at it for over an hour now, and while few blows had actually been landed, she could feel the strain in her arms as she continued to block each of Anya’s heavy blows. Anya had always been physically stronger than Lexa, and she had a longer reach, but Lexa had always been quicker and more nimble on her feet. But they were both tiring, but both were too stubborn to yield. 

Anya blinked the sweat out of her eyes, cursing as she whirled sharply leaving her left side open to attack, and she was rewarded with a fist to her ribs. She sucked in a shallow breath, gasping and choking, barely managing to hold back the groan of pain by sheer iron will. Despite the light leather armor she wore, she had still felt the full blow of Lexa’s fist on her already sore ribs. Lexa hadn’t pulled back, and Anya hadn’t expected her to, but still the blow had driven the air partly from her lungs. 

She stepped back carefully, holding her staff at the ready as they continued to circle each other, both being careful not to telegraph their next move, both trying to read their opponent. She had taught Lexa well, and she had to admit that her Seken had passed her Fos with the staff. She shook her head a little, as she flipped the staff in her hand, jabbing at Lexa’s middle, forcing the younger woman back. 

But Lexa parried and grunted, trying to force more space between their bodies as Anya continued to advance on her. She needed to push the bigger woman further away from her, so she had room to utilize her speed, but Anya kept pushing and stepping into her. She risked letting go of one end of her staff to punch at Anya’s ribs again, but the general was ready for it, and caught her wrist, jerking Lexa’s body into her own. 

Anya chuckled as she felt Lexa’s weight push harshly into her own. She stared down into vibrant green eyes, noticing the flush high in her cheeks, the hair clinging to her brow. She couldn’t resist, and she butted Lexa lightly in the nose, laughing when Lexa growled and shoved her away hard. 

“That’s what you get, Seken, for leaving yourself open to attack.” She laughed again as she twirled the staff in her hand, watching as Lexa tried to clear her eyes of tears. She probably shouldn’t give her a break, enemies gave no one a break; but she was tired. She was still trying to regain her strength from what had happened in the mountain. She grit her teeth, bile rising in her throat as she remembered being hung upside down and drained as if she’d been a rabbit, worthy of only being scavenged by a dishonorable predator. 

Lexa stared hard at Anya, not letting the concern show on her face. Her General still wasn’t up to full power or speed. Her movements were slower than they should have been, some of her strikes had been clumsy, and despite the power behind them she couldn’t keep up the pace. She knew the Mountain had taken much from Anya, and she worried about what it had done to her lover, how it might have changed her and hurt her in ways that Anya would never reveal. 

She watched quietly as Anya shook herself from whatever dark hole she’d momentarily fallen into, and started to advance on her. But she could see beneath the taught, harsh lines of her body that it was time to end this fight. She waited until Anya came closer, leaving space open for her to advance. And perhaps she wasn’t going to play fair...

“I’ve made my final decision about the sky girl.” 

Anya stumbled, so surprised by Lexa’s abrupt exclamation that she couldn’t catch herself in time to block the blow that cracked behind her knees sending her tumbling to the ground. But even as she rolled quickly to regain her feet, she felt the end of Lexa’s staff rest firmly against her throat. She stared up into cold, green eyes; and she curled her lips in a snarl before relaxing her hand and dropping her staff. She swallowed hard against the smooth wood pressing into her windpipe and croaked out, “I yield.”  

Lexa held the staff against Anya’s throat for another moment, her eyes searching Anya’s, and finally satisfied with what she saw she backed away. She waited a moment before bending slightly and offering her hand, unreasonably glad when Anya nodded and grasped it allowing Lexa to haul her to her feet. 

They stood there for a moment, barely any space between them as Anya looked down into green eyes that had slowly softened. She knew how Lexa could be, accepted that part of Lexa was closed off to her, but Lexa’s eyes had never lied; and over the years, she had become adept at reading them. She nodded and squeezed the smaller hand tucked into her own before stepping back. 

They gathered their staffs and walked to the edge of the dirt training pit. They set their staffs aside, and Lexa grabbed the ladle from the wooden bucket of water that sat on the sidelines. She dipped the ladle into the cool water and then held it for Anya to drink from. It wasn’t customary for Heda to offer water in such a way, for while Heda would always drink last, no one drank from her hand. Except Anya. 

Anya grinned and winked at Lexa, who rolled her eyes and huffed in annoyance. Anya cupped the bowl of the ladle in her hands and helped Lexa guide it to her mouth, and Anya drank deeply from it twice, before taking it from Lexa and refilling it to offer it back to Lexa. Once they’d drunk and started pulling off their training armor, Anya finally broke the silence. 

“What are you going to do to her?” 

“Whip her,” Lexa replied succinctly, not bothering to look up at Anya as she carefully pulled at the leather strings holding her leather cuirass in place. Once it was off, she tossed it on the log bench and rolled her shoulders back and forth trying to loosen the tension gathering there. 

Anya nodded. A whipping wasn’t so bad. It was far better than being put on the tree. “Have you thought more about a possible alliance?” She sat down on the bench, stretching out her legs waiting for Lexa to sit beside her. 

Lexa plopped down next to Anya, not bothering with her usual grace. There were only a few warriors and the seconds training, and her guards. No one was paying much attention. She tilted her head back, enjoying the sun splashing across her face and the cool breeze ruffling the fabric of her damp shirt. 

“I’m concerned…” she waited a moment, wondering if Anya would question it, and when Anya didn’t she continued, “this sky girl has shown no honor. None of them have. Why would I ally myself to a weak enemy when they only have treachery in their hearts?” 

Anya stared at the ground, watching a small beetle made its way through the dirt, carefully skirting the clods of hard dirt and crawling across broken, brittle grass; as it slowly made its determined way. “Azgeda sits in the Council,” she murmured almost off-handedly,” yet Nia is nothing short of treacherous. Plus, the girl saved my life.” 

Lexa sighed and turned to Anya, knowing there was more to it than that. “Saving your life does not atone for your village.  _ Your village _ , Anya,” she stressed. “Nor does it atone for my 300 warriors. Our brothers and sisters, Anya, our kin.” 

Anya winced, knowing Lexa was correct; and she silently cursed the sky girl for casting whatever spell she had upon herself. She should have been the one howling for Clarke’s blood, but instead here she was sitting next to her Heda, her lover, trying to save the girl. 

“The 300 was war, Lexa. You can’t fault her for that.” 

Lexa stared hard at Anya’s profile, while her general still refused to look at her. “Yes, you are right. I can’t fault her for that. I sent my warriors to slaughter them.” She glanced up at the sky again, smiling slightly at the puffy clouds that whispered across the deep blue. 

“I sent you to slaughter them,” she muttered quietly to herself. She wasn’t truly expecting an answer from Anya, so she was surprised when she spoke. 

“I failed you.” Anya stared straight ahead, her fists balled on her knees. There. She’d said it. She’d failed her Heda when she’d let the invaders live, when she’d let the Mountain capture her, and she’d failed Heda when she’d left the rest of their people in the Mountain. 

Lexa said nothing, not bothering to confirm or deny. The silence stretched on, and it was all the truth they needed. 

“We need her,” Anya swallowed harshly. “I’ve been inside the Mountain, Lexa. I’ve seen their tek. I-it...it is beyond anything we’ve seen before. But Clarke...she understood it. She knew how it worked. We can’t free our brothers and sisters, our parents, our children without them.” She didn’t plead, she said it simply. It was the truth. 

“We can finally bring down the Mountain.” 

Lexa nodded. It was true. Bringing down the Mountain was finally a possibility, but at what cost? Could this girl from the stars be trusted? These invaders were weak, and they had no honor. And they were arrogant, thinking that what they saw belonged to them. She narrowed her eyes in thought, her mind whirling through the possibilities. The girl needed to prove herself. 

When Lexa didn’t reply, Anya shifted on the bench, carefully pressing her shoulder into Lexa’s. “And after she is whipped?” 

“Well, that will depend on her.” 

Anya turned in confusion to look at Lexa, “I don’t understand.” 

Lexa sighed, “what happens to this sky girl, and her people depends entirely upon her. Upon what she says tomorrow and how she accepts her punishment.”

Anya nodded slowly, realizing what Lexa intended. And she had to admit, it was a sound plan. Whether or not there would be an alliance would depend solely upon Clarke tomorrow, and the girl didn’t even know it. 

“Tomorrow,” Lexa nodded and turned to Anya, catching the general’s eyes with her own. “Tomorrow we will know if your sky girl has any honor.” 

Lexa stood to her feet and stretched, satisfied with her decision, knowing that Anya would respect it, and that she even agreed with it. There was just one last thing...and this was going to be the hardest probably, but it would also give her the answers that she sought. 

“You will whip her tomorrow, Anya.” 

Anya’s mouth dropped open slightly, and she felt her heart slam almost painfully into her ribs. She scrambled to her feet, breathing hard, ready to protest angrily before she caught herself. She stared at the rigid lines of Lexa’s back, the tense line of her neck and shoulders. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

“Why?” She whispered, already knowing the answer. It was punishment. Punishment for Anya for being intrigued by this stranger from the skies. Anya had never whipped anyone before, and she didn’t relish the thought. The warrior, Armistead, had been trained in the art of the whip, and it was her who normally carried out such punishments. 

“She destroyed your village, Anya. As chief, it is up to you to demand justice for your people.” Lexa turned her head to the side, but still kept her back to Anya. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of this, General.” 

Anya froze, breathing carefully through her mouth. She stared at the sharp line of Lexa’s jaw, marveling at how she could almost feel the coldness of Lexa’s voice brushing across her skin like winter’s kiss. She closed her eyes briefly, and realized that Lexa was right. She hadn’t just failed her Heda, she had failed her people. Her village. She had burned her dead on a pyre, but still they cried out from the ashes; and she had ignored their pleas. 

Anya nodded. “You are right, Heda. Forgive me. I have failed my people,” she swallowed hard, “and you,” she whispered, her voice catching on the last word. 

Lexa turned to look straight ahead, and lifted her voice enough for Anya to hear her clearly, “You have never failed me, General. Never, Anya.” 

Anya swallowed back her protests and bowed her head in understanding, if not agreement. She had learned to recognize the thread of steel that now wound around Lexa’s words. Her  _ seken  _ was stubborn, a quality that had helped her endure where others had failed, and as Anya’s eyes met hers, her Heda persona stared back, hard and with little tolerance for foolishness, 

It wasn’t just that Anya had let herself be beaten by untrained children even though that had been a clawed blow that had ripped her pride to shreds. What ate at her every waking hour, and some nights in her sleep was the desperate wails of those she had left behind, caged like cattle. Perhaps they were already dead, and the  _ Ripas  _ were even now stealing more innocents from their beds, or the arms of their loved ones. Anya felt shame at having survived what countless others had not, and she knew the only way to erase her guilt was to tear the Mountain down, bare handed if she had to. Even if it cost her everything, it was time to bring down the Mountain.

“Come.” Lexa’s voice brought her back to the training pit, and all her aches, “we can wash and rest some before the other warband leaders begin to line up outside my tent.” She gave a wry smile, “word that I am in TonDC went around so fast, the clans’ ambassadors will show up any minute now.” 

Anya barked a laugh, struggling to imagine something so pressing it could coax the ambassadors away from the comforts of Polis. Then again, the possible fall of the Mountain very well could. 

She wavered slightly as they walked back to Lexa’s tent, the soreness in her muscles worse than she had anticipated, and she was grateful when the Commander shortened her stride, walking so close to her side their shoulders were touching. Lexa was offering her support without the shame that doing so directly would bring to her General. 

Anya risked a glance her way, but Lexa’s eyes were fixed ahead, lips slightly pursed and her brow furrowed in deep thought. Still, the older woman reveled in the closeness and thought that perhaps she’d begun to earn a fraction of forgiveness.

* * *

It was the third, or fourth day after the attack perhaps when they came for her. 

Clarke’s life once she had woken up, hungry and sore, had blended into a routine that had taken the quality of a waking dream. Her world had narrowed down to the confines of the small tent where Nyko or his apprentices were her only visitors. They brought food and medicine and, in the healer’s case, a sarcastic quip or two. 

The guards ducking inside the tent startled her and she gasped a little, before willing herself still as they clapped irons around her wrists and helped her up between them. 

They were burly men with unforgiving faces and Clarke was almost relieved when she found Indra waiting outside. The warrior gave her a thorough once over and grunted, apparently satisfied with her condition, before motioning the guards to follow. They pushed Clarke forward between them, and she had no choice but half-trot after the woman, trying not to look at the people they passed. 

She remembered all too well what her appearance in camp had caused, but the village was eerily quiet around them as they went, the angry mutterings that had followed her around when Anya had brought her in missing. 

The relative peace set her even more on edge if anything.

They crossed through the encampment quickly and Clarke’s heart began to quicken as she realized that the path they were taking led directly to the Commander’s tent.

She swallowed hard, as a cold sweat plastered the shirt she had been given to her back. This was it then. The Commander would decide what to do with her and the information she had brought from Mount Weather. An odd mix of fear and relief rushed through her, like a river tide finally breaking through a cracked dam. She thought her legs would start to shake or her bowels loosen, and yet all of a sudden Indra wasn’t walking fast enough. 

They crossed into the tent’s shade and Clarke blinked a few times, as the passage from light to the murkier interior robbed her of sight for a moment.  

Lexa felt herself tense as the prisoner was brought in to kneel just shy of the dais that led up to her throne. She was even more aware of Anya’s feet shifting a fraction, as the warrior reflexively widened her stance ready for trouble. The fact that she wasn’t sure to whose defensce Anya would go first left a coating of bitter ashes on her tongue. 

Before she had time to truly study Clarke though Quint, who had been brought in before the girl, lunged forward with an enraged scream, so violently the guards had to tug at his chains viciously, dragging him back. The warrior hissed and cursed undeterred, fists still coated with the girl’s dried blood, opening rhythmically in a grasping motion.

“Don’t,” Lexa hissed lowly when she caught a glimpse of Anya’s hand going for the sword she wore at her waist. Her eyes didn’t leave Clarke’s face and she saw the girl flinch back slightly from the assault, before her jaw locked, in what Lexa could only define as defiance, and her back straightened. 

She raised a hand and the tent fell quiet, even Quint not a fool enough to defy her twice. 

“Klark Kom Skaikru,” she looked down at the girl kneeling in front of her, and it felt like the sea was reaching up to engulf her when those blue eyes flicked upwards, “days ago in this very tent you offered me an alliance.” 

“Heda,  _ NO _ !” Quint’s shout ended in a gurgle and a split lip, courtesy of Indra. Perhaps he was still a fool after all. 

Clarke winced in sympathy as Quint slumped forward, blood dripping down his chin, but when he saw her looking he snarled viciously and spat in her direction. 

“Speak again without permission and I will have your tongue cut out.” 

The Commander had not moved an inch and her face was an unyielding mask, far and unreachable, her voice echoing with the desolation of an endless winter. As Clarke looked up to her she did feel fear, but also trepidation - the same one that she had felt when she had set foot on Earth and thought it abandoned and unexplored.  She wished she could get to know this woman, a girl really, barely older than her, for the few years that put a wedge between them felt like an ocean of time, and one had to wonder what the Commander had been through for her eyes to look as old and wise as the forest outside compared to such a young face. 

The brunette had settled back and was yet again toying with her knife, the blade occasionally flashing as it was twirled between nimble fingers. Clarke realized  _ Heda _ was waiting for her to speak and wetted her lips. The eyes of all present were trained on her and pricked her, like the spears clutched by the men that lined the tent’s walls. Clarke knew her next words could be her last. 

“I r-realize,” she stopped to clear her throat, but it was like shoveling more and more gravel into her mouth so she gave up, “I realize you have no reason to trust my people, Commander.” 

If anything, the days she had spent in almost complete solitude had given her plenty of time to think and she had realized she needed to offer more than empty words if she wanted the Commander to accept her offer. 

While the Ark hadn’t known that people still survived on earth, and couldn’t be entirely to blame for their crash landing, the 100 was to blame for the burning of the village and the 300 warriors. Even if the village had been unintentional, in their hubris, Clarke had spared the destroyed village very little thought. And as she had lay in the tent, healing from her wounds, bound and chained; she’d had ample time to think about the village; and the more she thought of it, the more she ached with the knowledge that there must have been children in the village, elders, people who were just going about their day. And she and her friends had ended those lives, destroyed homes, burned other people’s dreams; and only now was she bothering to think of what they’d done. 

There had been no recompense. No justice. And in her short time on earth, in her interactions with Lincoln and Anya she had quickly learned that the grounders admired strength, and they valued honor. Two things that she had yet to prove to Lexa that she and her people possessed.

She had come up with only one solution.

“When we came down to Earth we had no idea these lands were populated,” she resumed as calmly as she could, “we thought we were the last ones.” She wanted to shake her head at their ignorance, or hubris perhaps in thinking they were some sort of chosen ones. If they had survived above, why couldn’t have others done the same below?

“We had to contact the people that sent us here and ended up burning a village.” She wasn’t looking at the Commander anymore, but at Anya and she forced herself to watch pain fill the woman’s eyes. Clarke couldn’t erase what they had done, but she could bear the shame of it and honor those deaths by acknowledging how much Anya was hurting.

Murmurs of assent filled the tent, but she noted with a flutter of hope that the warriors who spoke loudest against her were hushed by their brethren when they saw she was going to speak again. 

“What was the name of your village?” She stared directly at Anya, refusing to look away when she saw the general clench her teeth in anger, remembering the senseless deaths of her people. 

“Annan,” Anya spit out, not wanting to think about what had happened at the village; the thirteen lives that had been lost; four of them children, the rest older and infirm and a few mothers and fathers who had tried to save their little ones. 

Clarke turned back to Lexa, “I take responsibility for the deaths and the destruction of Annan,” she stated calmly, feeling an almost grim contentment when she saw the Commander’s eyes widen slightly.   She had not spent more than a handful of moments in  _ Heda _ ’s presence, but it wasn’t hard to guess that the woman seldom allowed things to touch her enough to faze her.

“I was wondering  _ Klark _ , why I should ally myself with those that have no honor,” the Commander stood and walked to her, so close that Clarke had to crane her neck back painfully to keep meeting her gaze. 

She knew it was on purpose.  

“Perhaps you have remembered what that is, “ Heda’s hand shot out and grabbed her chin, so that she could not look away even if she wanted. 

“What about my three hundred?” 

“It was war.” 

The brunette snorted contemptuously and Clarke forced herself to sound meek, “but the idea of using fire was mine. I take responsibility.” 

“Ah,” Heda’s hand had been gloved in hard leather and iron, and the edges of the gauntlet had begun to dig painfully into Clarke’s cheeks. She puffed them out in relief when the hold loosened, before the hand fell away. 

“And what would you say if I demanded your death as payment,  _ Skai Prisa _ ?”

The silence was absolute, heavy and Anya watched from beside the empty throne as Clarke pondered her answer. She was painfully aware of how much hinged on the blonde’s reply and she had to make a conscious effort to avoid catching her gaze, even if she desperately wanted to, and somehow communicate which words would appease Lexa. Heda had been clear and cunning during their earlier talk, setting a suitable punishment yet somehow leaving Clarke’s fate to rest in her own hands, or rather her actions. 

The General felt the now familiar dichotomy pry her ribs apart, like a hand intent on thievery would do. Lexa’s words from their training session were a spur in her side - she knew she should be angry with Clarke, with all of them, and she was. But that rage had been consumed by the one that had been simmering like banked coals under her skin since she had been taken in the Mountain. Anya could not bring herself to hold these  _ Skai  _ People and the  _ Maunon  _ on the same scales, for one group was merely ignorant and the other truly wicked. 

Perhaps there was a simpler explanation - Clarke had made her weak and the implications terrified her.

She saw the blonde take a deep, steadying breath and leaned forward, resting one hand on the back of the throne, the warm wood a tether against the hurricane that churned inside her guts and threatened to shatter her composure. She had felt like this sometimes before a battle when she had been a young warrior barely out of the shadow of her own mentor, and then under the Mountain, when she had woken in a cage, groggy and stripped of her dignity, to await on an unknown fate.

She didn’t like feeling this weak. 

“If that is what you require to consider an alliance so be it Commander. Seal our agreement with my blood, so that no more of it is spilled between our people,” the chain binding the blonde’s wrists clinked softly and Anya could not fault her for trembling, but Clarke’s eyes as she looked up at Lexa were hard chips of blue resolution, “I will write a message for my mother explaining what happened. She sits on our Council and will help you against Mount Weather.” 

The Commander turned her back on Clarke and walked slowly up the dais and back to her seat. She made a curt gesture and the guards that had been standing to attention behind the blonde, rushed forward and dragged her back to her feet, while the ones that had been flanking Quint did the same. Anya had tried and failed to read her lover’s face as she walked back, so she could do nothing but wait with the rest of those assembled and hope. 

“Klark of the Sky People, Quint Kom Trikru. I condemn you for your actions, born of fear, ignorance and hatred,” Anya watched Lexa’s fingers squeeze the throne’s armrests, the tendons on the back of her hands standing out like snakes slithering just beneath her skin, “ these feelings may have affected you in different measures , but ignorance isn’t excusable, fear misguides even the strongest mind and hatred brings the most honorable men to commit unspeakable crimes,” at that Quint lowered his gaze in shame, more at having let hatred push him to disobey his Heda than the attempted murder, Anya was sure, but it was something, 

“The three combined make you weak, unworthy,” Lexa concluded, “I invoke the Rite of Atonement for you both, and may you find redemption in the falling of the lash against your flesh, and may your blood wash you of your sins so that you can be counted among the honorable again.”

If they survived the lashing without begging for mercy their honor would be restored in the eyes of the clan. Anya admired Lexa for having found the perfect balance. Clarke’s blood would still be spilled, but they would be able to broker for Skaikru’s support with the girl’s help. She hoped Clarke was truly as strong as she had seemed during their journey to TonDC.

Anya held back a sigh of relief and stepped forward, mirrored by Indra on the other side of the throne. The two Generals exchanged a fleeting look over Lexa’s head then raised their voice in unison and their shout filled the tent, word of Heda’s decision racing like wildfire around the village soon after.

“Hear us! As Heda has spoken, so shall it be!  _ SO SHALL IT BE _ !”

* * *

The space Heda had selected for their punishment was a strip of open land between the last row of tents and the forest. It wasn’t that big, but large enough that a group of the higher ranking warriors could bear witness and Clarke didn’t doubt that word of the rite would make the rounds in no time.  

Nobody had explained what this Rite was exactly, the guards simply taking her and Quint to the clearing under Indra’s supervision, but as they watched preparations get underway, Quint was more than happy to oblige. 

“They will flail you.” He was standing next to hEr, a guard holding him firmly by an arm , yet now that he knew that she was going to be punished he looked more intent in scaring her than trying to hurt her himself. 

People were slowly assembling on the opposite side of the meadow and Clarke watched some warriors carry a pole between them, thick enough that it took three of them to hold it upright in the middle of the clearing and plant it firmly into the ground.

“The lash will split your back open,” when she glanced up, Quint was sneering down at her, mouth twisted in dark humor, “I can’t wait to hear you howl.”

“Quiet!” Indra glared him into silence then took Clarke by the elbow. Her hand was hard and firm, but not cruel, “it is time.”

The General gave a meaningful nod towards the crowd and Clarke saw it part as the Commander strode forward, flanked by Anya and another warrior she didn’t know.  A warrior that carried what looked to be a whip with three separate lashes.  All three of their faces were streaked with warpaint, but only  Heda wore armor. The sash pinned to her pauldron was a scarlet river streaming down her back. The symbolism wasn’t lost on the blonde. 

Indra’s hold on her arm tightened, fingers digging in Clarke’s flesh and she was forced to stand up straighter, almost to attention.  

“Heda Leksa is merciful. Be grateful she decided to heed Anya’s council and not mine, girl. I would have you dead for what you’ve done.” 

“Lexa?” Clarke’s skin was suddenly running with a cold sweat as she remembered hearing the same name under very different circumstances. Surely it wasn’t the same person? 

There was no time to let her reeling mind dwell on it however, because Indra suddenly stepped forward, dragging her along. 

She had barely time to register Anya and the unnamed warrior moving towards them, before she was roughly spun around to face the pole. Indra unsnapped her shackles quickly, tugging her arms up and stretching them high over her head, so taut her shoulders began to ache. Coarse rope tightened around her wrists, chafing her skin immediately and then she was left alone, the front of her body flush against the pole. 

She heard someone approach behind her and, when the back off her shirt was torn open to leave her back exposed, she had to bite her tongue not to yelp. 

Cold air was a slap on her skin and Clarke’s body was racked by uncontrollable tremors. Adrenaline spiked in her blood, making her limbs tingle and twitch.  She turned her head as much as her position would allow, resting her cheek against the wood and trying to regain the balance she had begun to lose when she’d heard the Commander’s name spoken for the first time. This way she could look directly at Lexa and Quint, who had been brought up next to his Heda to attend her punishment. 

Then a warm, calloused hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades, pushing her even more against the pole, while the ropes were tugged experimentally. 

“Keep your mouth open,” it was Anya’s voice, so strained it was almost quivering with tension, “or you will bite your tongue off.” 

Clarke realized then that Anya was to be the one to administer the whipping. It was fair, considering all the warrior had lost because of her people, but at the same time it wasn’t. She looked at the crowd and, meeting Quint’s hateful eyes, she knew there was someone that had as much of a right to wield the lash as Anya did. 

She worked some moisture back into her mouth and gathered her nerve.  _ Honor. Atonement. Blood. Honor. Atonement. Blood. Blood. Ring of fire. Honor.  _ The words reverberated in her mind over and over again, until she was nauseous with the way her heart slammed against her ribs. 

“Wait!” Her voice echoed in the clearing for a moment and Anya’s hiss of warning was lost amid a rising tide of sudden, angry shouts. 

“Coward!” Some were screaming, others cursing her with words she did not understand. But Clarke didn’t listen to the crowd, she had eyes only for Lexa. 

The Commander’s green gaze remained an inscrutable abyss, but Clarke saw with clarity that she had her undivided attention. Perhaps it was a flicker of motion across her face, or the imperceptible tilting of her head, but when she knew that Lexa would not look away the blonde nodded her head towards Quint. 

The Commander raised one hand and silence descended instantly.

“Let her speak.” She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have to. 

“He may have wronged you,” Clarke locked eyes with Quint, “but I caused his pain and he has a right to make me bleed for it.” 

The crowd began to mutter again, but the sound had a different quality to it. They were abuzz with puzzlement and curiosity, eager to see what Heda would decide. Clarke had been so focused on getting her words out, she hadn’t realized Anya’s hand was still on her back and she felt it move subtly, comfortingly for an instant as if the warrior was trying to communicate something.

Lexa felt her stomach twist as she saw Anya’s hand linger on Clarke’s back a fraction longer than necessary. She wondered if part of the sick feeling that seemed to squeeze her throat shut, stemmed from the spark of respect that had ignited in her chest. It burned low under the jealousy and refused to die down.

She watched Anya take a step back and turn her head towards her, waiting for her to speak. Their eyes met and the General lifted the flogger she was holding slightly, eyebrows raised in question. 

“The  _ skai gada _ speaks true,” Lexa motioned the guards flanking Quint, and they undid his chains hurriedly, “you have lost a brother to her people,” she held his eyes for a moment, then looked to the assembled crowd, “many of you have lost someone to the Skai People! Let Quint’s and Anya’s hand exact payment for your loss.” 

The man grinned wolfishly and turned to join Anya, but Lexa’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm before he could take a step.

“Two lashes,” she hissed iron-hard, “grief does not excuse your disobedience.”

* * *

Anya stared impassively as Quint sauntered over, smirking at her as he held his hand out for the whip. She handed it to him, her hand catching his and she squeezed as hard as she could, smiling with her teeth when he visibly winced and tried to jerk his hand from hers. 

“You disobey, Heda, and I will kill you,” she murmured as she squeezed his hand one last time and stepped back. 

She stepped up behind Clarke, her hands fiddling with the ties around her wrists that were already tight enough. She leaned down just enough for Clarke to hear, “don’t dishonor me more than you already have,” she murmured before giving Clarke’s hand the slightest squeeze  to strengthen the message .

Clarke leaned her head down between her arms and stared at the dirt ground. The earth was stained and hard packed, and she imagined that the darker stains were blood from countless others who had found atonement here. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, remembering to let her mouth hang open. She tried not to tense her muscles, but she knew it was useless. She waited,  fighting down the instinct to strain against the ropes. She knew they would probably only dig deeper into her wrists if she tensed too much as the lash fell. 

Seconds seemed to fall into a timeless pit as she waited for the whip’s first stroke, neck rigid as she tried to discern what was happening behind her. It seemed that her punishment should never come, so when it did, the flogger’s coils smacking hard against her back she let out a gasp, more surprise than actual pain. Shock numbed her for a moment, and when it fell away she became aware of the burning line across her shoulder blades. 

Clarke barely had time to gulp some air down when her breathing cut short by the second fall of the lash. The blow was harder this time, as if Quint had just been adjusting his stance before. It sent her forward so hard that her front smacked against the pole, and it had been aimed cruelly low so that the ropes curled around her ribs. She heard the dry, nasty sound of bone cracking. 

Clarke’s world blurred with tears for a moment, but she blinked them back furiously, forcing herself to keep looking at Lexa who stood stock still across from her. The Commander’s eyes were hard and cutting like an emerald shard just chipped off its vein and it seemed that she could see into Clarke’s soul. And she had never felt so bare, or that exposed as she did now, as if the lash wasn’t flailing only her skin, but all the layers of herself she hid beneath. 

Lexa pressed her lips together, forcing down a grimace as she saw Quint’s second blow land sloppily half across the skai girl’s left side. She doubted he had much practice with the whip and yet as she watched him step back with a smirk, she knew he had picked the spot with purpose. 

This was seldom done, unless whoever would administer a punishment didn’t care about crippling their prisoners. The purpose of the Rite was to cleanse, not maim and an ill landed blow could cost someone dearly. Lexa had heard stories of Azgeda prisoners dying under the lash, but then again Nia had never been particular about respecting tradition. 

She couldn’t deny she felt relief when Quint simply handed the lash back to Anya and let the guards lead him back to his place. Her eyes met Clarke’s, the striking blue somewhat dimmed by a shimmering veil of unshed tears, but then the girl blinked and they were gone. 

Lexa held her gaze, aware of Anya and Armistead exchanging whispered words before her  _ Fos  _ kicked the girl’s feet into a wider stance. 

Armistead raised her arm in the air, “I will count down each lash until this Skai girl’s atonement is complete. Let it begin!” She dropped her arm abruptly, and the crowd quieted, turning all eyes to Clarke and Anya. 

Anya worked her arm back and forth a few times, as if assessing the weight of the lash, then let rip the first blow. It landed with a thud and Lexa watched Clarke sway, eyes narrowed at the pain and mouth gasping for air. 

More blows followed and soon enough a small keening sound began to accompany each one. Lexa felt Quint shift at her side and mutter under his breath, evidently disappointed by the fact that Clarke wasn’t howling as he had hoped she would. 

The girl’s back was crisscrossed by angry welts and around the fifteenth blow, the small knots at the end of each coil of rope broke skin and blood began to leak down her back. 

Every blow after that worsened the cuts until the girl’s skin was as scarlet as the sash affixed to Lexa’s  shoulder guard. She watched as Clarke’s eyes glazed over in agony, staring at her but not really seeing anymore. Drool gathered at the corners of Clarke’s mouth and ran down her chin and Lexa saw her crumble under the flail, she watched as everything was stripped from her and yet she could not help but note the way the blonde refused to sag fully against the pole, instead leveraging herself upward after each blow. Nor did she raise her voice above a strained whimper or groan.

It must have cost her every sliver of strength she possessed and the Commander was glad when Armistead finally called the last blow. The girl had proven she had backbone and, even if the Commander was skeptical about the rest of the Skai People, she could not, would not deny her atonement or humiliate her further. That was what she hoped set her apart from the Azgeda  _ Kwen _ \- Lexa knew that broken people were of no use. 

She walked towards Anya, just as the warrior stepped back, letting the flail fall to the ground. Her  _ Fos _ stood head down and panting, shirt plastered to her back and a sheet of sweat slicking her brow. Surprising herself Lexa stepped to the girl, hands rising to undo the ropes binding her wrists to the pole. She was even more surprised when Clarke raised her head weakly to look her in the eye.

“...over?” The girl croaked, tongue darting over broken, bleeding lips. 

“Sha,”  as soon as the knots were loose, Clarke’s legs gave way and Lexa quickly grabbed her by her forearms, letting her lean against her for support. Anya shook herself from whatever stupor she had fallen into and they exchanged a quick look, then the the General was scooping the girl up, ready to take her off to Nyko. 

“You did well.” Lexa whispered, so low she was sure that Clarke couldn’t possibly have heard. 

But there had been a moment, as Anya was lifting the girl off of her, when she was sure that Clarke’s hand had squeezed her wrist weakly and in passing.  

The feeling of Clarke’s weight against her chest took a long time to fade. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, no sex. But a bit of fluff. And you are here for the plot anyway right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we tackle a bit of what happened before Clarke was taken into the Mountain. We did away with the Diana plotline (neither of us liked it much to be honest) so the Ark landing on Earth was a planned descent after they figured out the Delinquents were safe and the ground survivable. 
> 
> As usual comments and kudos are welcome. We value your feedback.
> 
> Also let me sneak in a heartfelt thank you to my twin Jude - it is always amazing to work with you.
> 
> K

The Rite of Atonement had left Lexa unsettled, and she couldn’t fathom why. Something about this skai girl was getting under her skin, scratching at her bones, and she didn’t know how to define or even describe how she felt. She was moody, even irritable, and slaking her lust with Anya later hadn’t helped nearly as much as she had hoped it would.

And while she had admired the ring of lilac blossoms that she had left along Anya’s collarbone, and she revelled in the light scratches Anya had left scattered along her ribs, she still felt a restless energy burning through her muscles; which was why she was in her tent sitting on her throne staring moodily into the large brazier that burned in the middle. She drummed her fingers impatiently on the smooth, wooden arm of her twisted throne of branches and thorns.

She tilted her head back and stared up through the vented hole of the tent and gazed at the stars. They shone brightly against the ebony sky, and she thought perhaps they were more mysterious than beautiful. She’d heard the tales of those who had fled earth when the world was burning, but she’d never truly believed that anyone could survive up above the clouds. But they could, and they had. And now, they’d returned to this world. And for what purpose? To reclaim it as their own? As conquerors? How strong were they really? What kind of tek did they posses? And more importantly, were their weapons similar to the Mountain’s? Could they even be trusted?

She sighed as she heaved herself up out of the throne. She stretched, groaning lightly when she felt the muscles in her back and shoulders shift and her vertebrae cracked lightly. She started to pace, her mind whirling as she considered the ramifications of an alliance with the Skaikru, and what would happen if the Coalition objected. She rubbed her hands across her face, grimacing at how gritty her eyes felt, and she turned back to the smaller room off to the side. She grasped the heavy leather and furs to move them aside, so she could slip back into her bed chamber, back into Anya’s arms, but she hesitated.  

She grit her teeth and let the leather fall back in place. She knew she wouldn’t find any rest, and she would simply wake Anya up with her tossing and turning, and then she would have to face her lover, and she wasn’t prepared to do that.

She needed answers. With her decision made, she grabbed her cloak, throwing it hurriedly over her shoulders and slipped out of her tent, nodding quietly to her guards. She waved them off when they moved to follow her. She didn’t need them here, and she didn’t want them to know where she was going, although she was sure someone was bound to see her.

She stepped around the back of the first row of huts, and made her way quickly to the healer’s tent. She skirted around the edges, avoiding the guards, and being careful to stay out of reach of the light from the communal fire in the center of the village. When she reached the tent, she ducked inside quickly.

It took only a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, and she walked over to the brazier of coals in the middle of the small tent. She squatted down and poked at the coals with a small stick, stirring them to life again. She heard him approach quietly, but she ignored him, staring into the fire instead.

“Heda?”

She finally looked up at him, noting the stained rags he held in one hand and the bowl in the other. She jerked her chin at the rags, relieved that there didn’t seem to be too much blood on them. He nodded at her silent question as he walked past her and to the table where he set the items carefully down.

“I just changed the bandages. She will heal. It will scar,” he turned back toward her noting the tired slump to her shoulders. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he was surprised or not that she had come. He had already given her his report on both the skai girl and Quint hours ago, but it appeared that his Heda was more bothered than he had originally thought.

“But she can be proud of the scars. They are a badge of honor.” He stared at her profile, and once she finally nodded her head slightly, he relaxed. He turned back to the table, separating the rags for washing, and putting the stained ones in a bag. He grabbed the bag and his cloak, readying to leave.

“I gave her some tea. She should sleep for a few hours. I will be back at dawn to check on her.” He threw the bag over his shoulder and walked towards the tent flaps before turning back to look at Lexa again. “Oh, and Heda, if you wake my patient, you will regret it.” He chuckled when he heard her quick bark of laughter. He was wise enough to know that while he was one of the few who could say such a thing, he also shouldn’t push his luck.

Lexa waited another moment or two after Nyko left before she stood slowly to her feet. She tossed her cloak off and onto a chair before stepping into the smaller room. The skai girl lay on her stomach on a raised pallet of furs. Strips of linen were laying across her back, and Lexa could smell the poultice that Nyko had applied to the wounds. A fur covered her lower half, but Lexa could still see the shape of her curved bottom. She let her eyes rake up the girl’s torso, noticing the soft curves that shone in the dim light. She swallowed harshly before stepping further into the room.

She stepped closer, reaching out with one hand, until her fingers skimmed one golden curl. Clarke’s hair wasn’t exactly rare, but it wasn’t common to see this particular shade so far north. Last time Lexa had seen hair close to this color was when she’d pushed deep into the southern clans. There some of the clans had hair that had lightened due to constant exposure under a burning sun. But this girl had come from the sky, had lived among the stars. And perhaps it was the stars and not the sun that had given her hair that reminded Lexa of the golden wheat fields in the south.

She released the curl from her fingers and sighed. She rubbed at her forehead, before pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. She squeezed hard, relieved at the slight pain she felt. She hoped it would distract her from her thoughts. Thoughts that didn’t make sense, that held no seeming rational. It had been a long time since she had felt so discombobulated.

She finally sat down in the chair next to the bed. She stretched out her legs and laced her fingers over her stomach, while she stared at Clarke’s face. Despite being given tea to help her sleep, Lexa could tell from the girl’s furrowed brow, that her sleep wasn’t entirely peaceful, and probably wasn’t pain free.

“So, Clarke kom Skaikru, what am I going to do with you?” She glanced around the room, half-relieved, half-frustrated knowing that the girl wouldn’t answer.

She pressed her hands so tightly together that her knuckles cracked softly and her fingers began to ache. Her eyes roamed the small tent, even if the coals offered so little light that she could barely make out any details beyond the sleeping girl on the furs. Lexa felt her jaw clench and she barely stopped herself from standing and pacing back and forth, because she knew she’d end up waking Clarke despite the healer’s tea. Nyko would never carry his threat through, but he had a reputation for somehow making medicine taste fouler than it had to when he thought people were being too thick headed for their own good.

She sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose testily. She could feel a tightness in her neck and a dull ache behind her eyes that would probably result in a nasty headache come morning. Finally she settled back again and forced herself to resume her study of Clarke.

The girl was a riddle wrapped into a puzzle and, as she watched her sleep, Lexa felt like she was still a seken, trying to solve one of the seemingly impossible tests Anya would present her with.

“Do you know how much hinges on your people’s coming, Clarke?” she whispered, so quietly she herself wasn’t sure if she was just thinking the words, “things will change….they already are.”

While Clarke had proven her honor, Skaikru remained at large a mystery. Lexa wasn’t so naive as to think that all of the Sky People would be as righteous. After all, while there surely were steadfast people in Azgeda, they still followed Nia’s commands.

The girl twitched in pain breathing raggedly,  and Lexa tensed, sliding to the edge of her seat as she debated whether to call the healer back . After a few moments Clarke stilled and her breathing eased back into the typical rhythm of slumber.

The furs hiding Clarke’s lower back had slid half off the makeshift pallet when she had moved, and Lexa’s eyes were inevitably drawn to pale skin and curves gently painted in the low light.

The Commander stood slowly and gathered the pelts hastily, eager to cover Clarke’s nudity and yet unseemly reluctant.

She draped the furs over Clarke’ lower back slowly and as gently as she could, then when her knuckles met soft skin in a brushed whisper, she dropped the covers’ edge hurriedly, recoiling as if scalded.

Lexa didn’t know what to make of the sudden fluttering in her chest, her heart a hummingbird thumping maddened wings behind the ivory bars of her ribcage.

She dropped back into her seat, pressing a hand to her throat, but no matter how harshly she gulped the lump wouldn’t budge. She frowned as she felt heat splash across her cheeks and a splinter of resentment prick her insides.

“I see the way she looks at you, you know. I’m Heda. I see everything.” She chuckled quietly, her voice devoid of any humor. She shifted in her chair again, trying to get comfortable, but even as she slumped and then sat up again, crossing her legs and then uncrossing them again; she knew it was useless. The chair wasn’t the problem. The churning in her gut, the mad thumping of her heart, and the irrational sting of heat under her skin was the problem.

“Anya is mine,” she muttered as she glared at the sleeping girl, but her voice lacked any true vehemence, for she wasn’t sure it was even true anymore. She sighed, “At least she used to be, well as much as she was capable of being mine. After Costia…” her voice trailed off, and she waited for the wave of pain to hit whenever she thought of Costia, but instead of the bite of pain, she only felt a soft sadness. She shook her head ruefully. Perhaps the old earth adage was true, time heals all wounds. Or perhaps it had been Anya who had healed her.

“She kept me sane after Costia. She never judged me for my pain, and when I thought my grief and hate would consume me, she was there. My rock. My shelter. She never let me go,” she murmured. She slumped a little in her seat, looking down at her hands. She rubbed her fingers across her palms, thinking back to those long nights when Anya had held her while she bit her own arm until it bled in order to hold back her screams of grief.

“I don’t think she even fully realizes what she’s doing, or what she’s feeling. But she’s off. Something isn’t right with her, and it isn’t just the Mountain. It’s you,” she looked up at Clarke accusingly, her eyes hard, her lips twisted slightly. But the longer she looked at the pale, young woman laying in front of her, with her face slightly creased in pain and exhaustion; the harder it was to hold on to her anger. Her eyes softened and her lips relaxed.

She dropped her head into her hands, the exhaustion from sleepless nights weighing heavily on her shoulders. She wanted to hold on to her anger, but she was too tired and too pragmatic to really hate the girl or even wish her any ill will. But she couldn’t shake the lingering itch of jealousy that prickled on her skin and heated her cheeks.

“I won’t lose Anya. Not to the Mountain, and not to you. But I see. I see how she acts, how she walks that fine edge of defiance where you are concerned,” she whispered hoarsely, her words catching in her throat. “She wants to protect you, and I can’t let her sacrifice her people for you. And I won’t sacrifice her for you.”

She stared at the girl, disgruntled that there was no reply, even though she knew there wouldn’t be one. It was irrational to feel such irritation, such unease in the face of this sleeping girl. But she couldn’t hold back the tide of her feelings that swamped her as if she were a broken reef.  

“What are you doing to us?” Frustration made her voice quake and rise in volume, before she managed to rein in her quickly fraying nerve. She cast a fretting look towards the tent’s entrance, then to Clarke and back to the sliver of night she could see between the tent’s flaps, worrying she had spoken loudly enough to draw attention.

The guards outside knew better than to question her, but Nyko would probably chase her away if he had been near enough to hear.  

A slight rustling filled the tent and Lexa’s attention was drawn back to Clarke. The girl was shifting and she could see the muscles in her back seize up for a moment, a smudge of red seeping through the bandages. The moan that followed was pure pain, wet and animal in quality and Lexa had to look away for a moment, knowing that Clarke was suffering at her hand, even though she had not been the one wielding the whip.

“Life is so hard here Clarke,” she found herself speaking softly to the blonde, as if telling her a bedtime story, “people die from war, or sickness everyday. In the winter we bury them in droves, especially our _yongons._ ” She halted and grimaced, rows of tiny, lonely mounds peeking under a cover of snow branded inside her skull from winters past. “I know you never meant to burn Anya’s village,” the truth of the admission blistered on her tongue, “but your people took lives and you needed to show you were willing to be accountable.” Clarke had proven that, Lexa thought, and more. She had proven she was strong enough that her most trusted General could find something in her to respect, and Lexa had to concede she could see it too.

“There is something about you, Clarke kom Skaikru. I have never met anyone quite like you.” She waited a moment, gathering her words; words that felt too much like a confession. “And it isn’t your hair that is the color of wheat fields, or your eyes that are the color of an ocean storm. No. You are strong. Foolish, but you are strong, and you are determined. You are a survivor.” She nodded with finality. “That is what life is. It is about surviving. We do what is necessary. We sacrifice, and we bleed, and we fight, and we survive another day.”

“You shed your blood and paid the debt,” she murmured, and before she could rethink her action she had placed a gentle hand on top of Clarke’s head, “if death has no cost, life has no worth. Now I know you understand this.”

She took her hand away slowly, the blood staining the bandages on Clarke’s back bothering her deeply, in a way she’d not expected. She squirmed, more than a bit miffed about the fact the girl seemed to get under her skin so easily, even while asleep and was perhaps even angry at her. No clan leader, or Ambassador, no enemy had ever managed to make Lexa uncomfortable to the point she questioned her own motives. Oh, they had in other ways like Nia, but where everything was black and white in regards to the Ice Queen, Clarke’s presence had drawn her into a world of subtle, ever shifting greys she found hard to navigate.

“I wish this could have been done differently,” she found herself almost choking on words she’d never thought she’d say, “I saw no other way but make an example out of you.” Her eyes lingered on the sleeping girl a moment longer, then she stood as they began to burn and quietly left the tent.

For some reason that Lexa couldn’t quite fathom her words had almost sounded like an apology of sort and left her mouth bitter as if she’d drunk one of Nyko’s infamous remedies.

She walked slowly back to her own tent, reluctant to join Anya until her mind quieted, yet yearning for the reassuring warmth of her lover by her side. Night closed around the Commander, swallowing her whole, but when she finally made it back to her tent sleep was a long time coming.

* * *

 

Lexa emerged from a fitful half sleep to find the spot next to her still warm, but empty. Three days had passed since the Rite, and for three days now lovemaking had failed to yield a peaceful sleep, and she’d woken to find Anya already long risen. Her General had been gnashing her teeth in frustration, and while Lexa shared the sentiment, she took some consolation in the fact she was better schooled at hiding her emotions. She was painfully aware that each new day meant more of their people were dying under the Mountain, but the clans had been reluctant to move, only now responding to her summons.

She could not blame them for being cautious, word of what the Skai People had done had gotten out and grown as it went as rumor was wont to do. Besides, the similarities between the Maunon and Skaikru were not lost on anyone.

She blinked away the last shreds of sleep and kicked the blankets off with a huff. Her mouth felt dry and pasty, and there was a nasty feeling at the back of her throat as if something had died there. Perhaps, she mused as another headache thrummed against her temples, she was coming down with something.

She shrugged, washing her face and body quickly in the basin of water set out by her handmaiden. She chewed on a few mint leaves before spitting them out and rinsing her mouth. She quickly braided her hair, ignoring the snarls. She growled under her breath, her irritation growing by the minute. She shrugged on her coat, but decided to forgo the armor and warpaint. They weren’t at war. Yet.

She stepped out into the main room of the tent, happy to feel the warmth from the fire start to warm her bones. The first Winter’s Breath would be here in just a few moons, and she hoped to be back in Polis by then.

She waved her handmaiden away when she approached with a plate of food. She felt too queasy to eat anything, and once the handmaiden had placed the food on the table for later and then left, she made her way to Anya’s side.

Anya turned when she felt Lexa walk up to her, and she nodded to Lexa before quickly turning her attention back to the table. She moved a few more of her wooden models on the map, her brow knit in concentration.  The Mountain was almost impenetrable, and she was trying to figure out how many warriors would be needed to wage an all-out assault on the Mountain. She sighed in disgust as she moved another set of little blue blocks.

Lexa stared at the map, noting all of the small blocks in various colors. She carefully bumped her shoulder into Anya’s, “How bad is it?”

Anya grunted but bumped her back lightly before straightening and resting her closed fists on the table, “Bad. We are going to need all of the clans, Lexa. Every warrior.” She reluctantly turned her head to the small pile of white blocks set off to the side. She grabbed a few and put them in place.

“So. We will have to call on the Ice Nation also.” Lexa crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves that settled in her stomach. Calling on the Ice Nation was dangerous at best. Nia couldn’t be trusted, and Lexa worried that the woman might try to use the war to her advantage.

“Sha.” Anya turned to face Lexa, leaning her hip against the table. She smiled in quiet amusement at the disarray of Lexa’s braids.

“Decided not to bother today?” she chuckled as she gestured towards Lexa’s hair, and then she laughed harder when Lexa just growled at her.

“Shof op, Anya! It’s your fault. You’re the one who wrecked the braids to begin with,” muttered Lexa as she fought down her blush, remembering how Anya had threaded her hands in Lexa’s hair, gently, and sometimes not so gently tugging on her braids, directing Lexa’s mouth to where she wanted it.

Anya smirked when she saw the blush blossom across Lexa’s face, she leaned forward pressing her pelvis into Lexa’s hips. She brushed her lips gently across Lexa’s ear whispering, “I can’t help it, you were always very talented with your mouth.” She quickly licked Lexa’s earlobe and then jerked back, but not quick enough to escape the back of the hand to her stomach. She chuckled again at Lexa’s glare that lacked any real anger.

She grabbed Lexa’s hand, pulling her towards her throne, “Come, I will rebraid it for you.” She ignored Lexa’s surprised look, instead guiding her to sit back while she went looking for a brush. Once she came back with what she needed, she undid the sloppy braids, and carefully brushed out Lexa’s hair and started to rebraid it.

Lexa let her eyes drift shut, enjoying Anya’s touch. Her Fos had braided her hair for when she was her Seken, but rarely had she done it after Lexa had become Heda. Costia had taken over braiding her hair, and then her handmaidens. Only once or twice in the years that Costia had been gone had Anya braided it for her.

She felt herself drift off as the rhythmic brushing and braiding further relaxed her. But the moment was soon cut short as she remembered the girl in the healer’s tent. She sighed as she opened her eyes, staring morosely ahead. There was no one else in the tent but she and Anya, and she knew some of the ambassadors would be arriving soon.

“We need to talk about Clarke.” She grimaced slightly when she felt Anya’s movements falter, before the warrior regained control and continued braiding and tying off her hair.

“She is strong. Stronger than I had anticipated,” Lexa conceded. She waited for Anya to speak, but when the general didn’t bother to offer any words, Lexa reached up and grabbed one of her hands, staying her movements. She tugged on Anya’s hand, pulling the general around to face her.

“She did well in the Rite. We will have an alliance.” She watched Anya’s face carefully, and when she saw the relief sweep over her general’s face before she could hide it, she swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth.

“This is good, Lexa. They have tek, and they will help us take the Mountain. Clarke will be an asset.” Anya stared at Lexa, surprised when Lexa dropped her gaze. She licked at her dry lips, realizing there was more to this than just an alliance. Three days ago, she had woken to an empty bed late at night, and when she had gone to find Lexa, she’d been informed that Lexa had gone to the healer’s tent. She had been tempted to follow her, but had resisted and instead returned to the warmth of their furs.

“What is it? What bothers you so about this girl?”

Lexa snorted, anger simmering just under the surface before it quickly drained away, to be replaced by a resigned sadness. “She has captured your attention.” Lexa looked up, her eyes shining in the dim light, soft and vulnerable. “Perhaps she has captured more than just your attention?”

Anya stared in surprise at Lexa. She could hear the fear in her lover’s voice, the uncertainty etched in the furrow of her brow. She wanted to deny everything Lexa said, but she wasn’t sure anymore about how she felt except for one thing. She carefully dropped to her knees, grasping Lexa’s hands in her own. “I have always been yours, Lexa. I always will be. Clarke…” she hesitated before continuing on, “Clarke is different, I can’t help but admire her…” she swallowed harshly, dropping her eyes to their clasped hands.  She ran her thumbs over the back of Lexa’s hands smiling as her thumb traced the scar on one of her knuckles, remembering how Lexa received it defending another young _natblida_ from an older bully.

“Clarke is Clarke,” she finished lamely, not sure how to express feelings that she didn’t even understand. “But I am yours Heda. I’ve always been yours, Lexa, and I always will be. Clarke doesn’t change that.” Lexa nodded and squeezed Anya’s hands, she smiled down at her worried general, but her heart was heavy with uncertainty.

“As much as I like you on your knees before me, Anya, you should probably get up, the ambassadors will be here any moment,” she smirked at Anya as she pushed herself up from her throne, and pulled Anya to her feet. She couldn’t resist, and she reached up, pulling Anya’s head down to her own; and she pressed her lips firmly against Anya’s, enjoying the sweet taste of her general. And she felt her heart lighten when her general eagerly kissed her back, trying to deepen the kiss before Lexa pushed her back gently.

Lexa walked to the table, pulling Anya with her. She looked at the map, noting all the clans accounted for. She tapped her fingers on the table, idly picking at the rough grain before nodding her head, and retreating to the smaller table where her morning meal had been placed. She grabbed the small bowl of nuts and returned to the map.

“Skaikru. Our new allies.” She handed a few nuts to Anya and jerked her chin at the map. “What have the scouts reported?”

Anya placed the nuts carefully on the map. “Here. They landed here eight days ago.”

She was about to relay what else the scouts had seen of the new camp growing in the marked area when the tent’s flap was pulled aside, Indra ducking in. Anya’s eyebrows rose in surprise when she saw who was accompanying her fellow General and it took her quite an effort to still her features.  

“Heda.” Indra’s small bow was a greeting to them both, “Broadleaf and Floukru are here.”

“I can see that.” Lexa’s tone was as barren as dry twigs and Anya could tell she was annoyed at having the Ambassadors shown inside so abruptly, yet the Commander strode forward with a sincere smile, hands extended in greeting.

“It is good to see you Heda,” Edric, the Broadleaf ambassador bowed respectfully, even a hair lower than required. His companion had no such compunction.

“Is it true?” Brigid’s voice held all the iron of a ship’s captain expecting her crew to obey her to the letter, “are we finally tearing the Mountain down?”

Anya opened her mouth to rebuff her, seeing Indra was about to do the same, but Lexa raised a hand forestalling them.  

“I pray the spirits that we will, Ambassadors,” she gestured for them to take places around the table, “at least there is a chance now.”

“Chance,” Brigid’s mouth curled around the word as if she had taken a mouthful of something rotten, “I would not take a rowboat to sea based on chance, let alone attack the Maunon.”

Edric reddened at the Floukru Ambassador’s directness and made quick apologies, casting nervous looks at Lexa’s face.

She could not fault Brigid for the doubt thickening her voice, nor her wariness. Lexa herself could scarcely believe they finally had the opportunity to rid themselves of the Mountain’s shadow, once and for all. She fingered a blue marker, painted the color of the ocean for Brigid’s clan. The wooden blocks symbolizing Broadleaf were yellow gold like leaves turning with the cold season.

“We are assembling more spears,” the Ambassador had followed her hand, scanning the map until his eyes met the spot she had marked with the nuts, “what of these?” He poked one with a thick finger.

“Skaikru’s landing site,” Lexa replied curtly.

She didn’t raise her head, pretending the map on the table held her complete attention, yet watched for their reaction out of the corner of her eye.

Edric merely nodded, his face a mask of stoicism. Lexa knew rumor had spread like wildfire among the clans and also that many had witnessed Skaikru’s descent, a fiery streak that had brightened the night’s sky. It made no sense to keep the location of their landing hidden, especially not from the most loyal clans. And anyway they had touched down deep in Trikru territory and if any other clan had dared to move in on them it would have been considered an act of war. Nobody was that foolish.

Brigid’s reaction was a different matter altogether. The reedy woman jerked as if slapped, sucking in a breath so harshly the air whistled between her teeth.

“We heard the talk about the Rite on the road from Polis, “ she planted her hands on the table and leaned forward, “that you took one of them prisoner and they brokered an alliance with you. Is that why you think the Mountain can be taken?”

Trust the woman to navigate politics as well as she steered her sailboat in high seas.

“It wasn’t me that took her,” Lexa looked at Anya, “the General did.”

“ _Her_?” Edric asked, eyes shining with interest.

They were interrupted by voices raised in argument, and the crunching of feet approaching the tent’s entrance. Lexa swore under her breath - if someone was going to usher in more Ambassadors without letting her know first she would…

Nyko’s exasperated words cut through whatever she intended.

“You can’t go in there! You shouldn’t even be walking in your state!”

Clarke strode inside the tent, a harrowed-looking Nyko hard on her heels.

“Apologies Heda,” he mumbled, grabbing the girl’s arm, “she would not be dissuaded.”

Lexa took one look at Clarke’s determined face, noticing her skin looked pale and clammy with sweat. There was a line etched between her brows, that she knew was caused by pain and the effort of not letting it show in equal measure.

“It is alright, Nyko,” she nodded and he relaxed visibly, “Anya has told me our Skai Prisa can be quite stubborn.”

The healer chuckled, releasing his hold. “Oh I believe that,” he scowled at the blonde, “you tear the scabs open, you can tend to them yourself!” He shook a finger under Clarke’s nose in warning before bowing to Lexa and the Ambassadors and taking his leave.

“Skai Prisa?” Brigid asked, circling around the girl like a seagull over fish guts, “merchants told me of the battle you fought with the Skai People, Heda. They spoke of a girl leader with hair the color of ripe wheat,” her voice dripped with disappointment and she reached out to poke Clarke’s ribs. Hard. “this is her? I expected someone taller.”

Clarke recoiled and stumbled back, grasping the table’s edge to keep upright. The pride she had felt at retaining her composure in front of these strangers evaporated. She had not anticipated others save Lexa and Anya would be in the Commander’s tent. In hindsight she should have guessed, considering the number of guards she had elbowed her way past. Now, under this woman’s shameless scrutiny, she felt her cheeks heat up and was all the more conscious that everyone’s attention was focused on her.

“Do give over, Brigid." The only man present spoke, voice deep and soothing. He smiled and Clarke thought that it made him look considerably younger, despite the gray hair she could spot at his temples. He towered over her and yet managed to appear almost fatherly as he continued. “The girl looks fine to me. A pity I am too old, “ he winked in her direction, “but I do have a young, strapping son that must be about her age,” he arched an eyebrow in Clarke’s direction, “of course I have a daughter too should you prefer that, if Heda will consider it?”

Clarke felt like her face was on fire and looked around the tent desperately, not knowing how to respond. The man was actually asking Lexa if she was… available, as if she somehow belonged to the Commander!

“Heda…” she didn’t manage anything else, but looked to Lexa in a way she hoped sufficiently pleading.

For a moment it looked like the Commander would leave her to fend for herself, then she spoke somewhat cooly.

“I believe Clarke’s interests lie elsewhere, Ambassador.”

“A shame.” the man seemed to take it in stride, then surprised Clarke even more when he formally bowed to her, “a pleasure to meet you nonetheless, Klark Kom Skaikru.”

“Uh...likewise.” Clarke bowed as much as her back would allow and the man seemed content with her gesture, “perhaps you can tell us more of your people?” He glanced in Lexa’s direction, evidently seeking approval. Clarke waited for her terse nod before replying.

“There isn’t much to tell,” Clarke shrugged and grimaced, regretting it immediately when strokes of pain coated her back, “the rest of my people were to join the few of us that came down first, but we lost contact with them when…” she trailed off and bit her lip, keenly aware of the weight of Lexa’s gaze, “when the battle started,” she resumed hurriedly, “then the Mountain took us.”

Anya tapped her finger on the map to draw Clarke’s attention, “your people are here,” she saw the girl sag in relief and remembered how she’d offered to write to her mother to explain their deal. It made more sense now and fit with what Clarke had just told them. The blonde must have assumed that her people came safely to the ground, but had not been entirely sure. She had gambled with them in a way and Anya was not certain whether she should be angry or admire her for it.

She glanced at Lexa, noticing the cautious way in which she studied Clarke while managing to look like she was doing nothing of the sort. If Heda drew the same conclusion she didn’t let it show.

“Our scouts report they have started to fortify their position with metal debris from their landing and wood they salvaged from the forest nearby. They sent a few scouts out, mostly looking for game and have not neared any of our settlements yet, “ she shrugged, “I doubt they can even tell where they are.”

“Children.” Brigid mouthed contemptuously, then her eyes narrowed and she pinned Clarke with a hard stare, “you said the Mountain took you?” Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper and she blanched considerably, “you mean you were _inside_ it?”

“She was,” Anya interjected, “as was I. She saved my life.”

Both Ambassadors just stared, clearly torn between awe and disbelief as they took turns to recount what they had seen inside Mount Weather. When Clarke mentioned the blood harvest and how it tied to the Ripas, Brigid muttered angrily and looked on the brink of spitting on the ground, before she shot a look at Lexa and swallowed down curses and saliva alike.

“I can draw a map for you, if you have something I can use, “ Clarke offered at the end, fighting down the pain that had grown to a steady throb under her skin. She wanted nothing more than to go back to the pile of furs waiting in Nyko’s tent, but the thought of the people still trapped inside the Mountain kept her on her feet.  

She subtly leaned heavily on the table, cursing under her breath at how weak she felt. She had barely moved for the last three days while waiting for her back to start to heal. The lashes had finally scabbed over, and she was intensely aware of every movement she made. It took very little for the scabs to pull at her skin, and she worried about them bursting and infection setting in.

Lexa stared at Clarke from across the war table, noting how her skin had seemed to pale even more in the short time that she had been in the tent. It was obvious that she was in pain and weak from her ordeal, yet she didn’t utter a single complaint. She walked around the table grabbing the back of one of her chairs as she went by. She carried it to Clarke, setting it down and indicating for the girl to sit.

When Clarke hesitated and shook her head, all too aware that no one else had been sitting during their impromptu meeting, Lexa barely managed to stop her eye roll. The girl was stubborn. Perhaps even more stubborn than Anya. She couldn’t keep the smirk from twitching at the corner of her mouth, but it wouldn’t do for the girl to defy her too much, not when her ambassadors were watching.

She grasped Clarke gently by the bicep and pushed her down into the chair. “I need you to be strong. For soon we go to war, and you need to be ready.” She looked down at Clarke, ensnared for a moment in the depths of eyes as blue as the open ocean. She shook her head minutely, in an attempt to clear it of such fanciful notions and break her seeming connection with Clarke. “And that means that you need to rest now, regain your strength.”

Clarke nodded and sat carefully in the chair, not letting her back touch it. She didn’t want to admit the intense relief she felt at being off her feet, and she set her elbows on the table and scanned the map again. It looked very little like the maps she had seen in books. This map looked like more than one person had drawn it, filling in parts over the years. It showed mountains and streams, bridges and forest copses, valleys, and even areas that were marked with symbols for big game or danger.

She was startled when Anya set down pieces of parchment and a stick of charcoal wrapped in rough twine. She nodded at Anya and grabbed the charcoal, pulling a piece of the thick parchment closer. “Ok, so here is what I remember,” and she quickly began to sketch the inside of the mountain, carefully labeling each level and room. It took roughly half an hour as she sketched, and Anya added tunnels that she had been in when she had been dragged into the Mountain, and then when she had escaped.

Lexa watched as the map came to life on the paper, and she was impressed with how much the girl remembered. She felt the first spark of hope blossom in her chest, and she began to truly believe that they could finally rid themselves of the Mountain.

“This is well done, Clarke.” She picked up the parchment studying it carefully before looking down at the girl again. She was surprised to see the girl beaming up at her, her smile brightening her eyes, and for a moment Lexa forgot how to breathe, so startled was she by the girl’s sheer beauty and joy. And she couldn’t help the small smile that whispered across her mouth. When she raised her eyes from Clarke’s to look around at the occupants, she was surprised to see Anya smiling back at her. She frowned and ducked her head, clearing her throat.

“Can you make a few copies, Clarke? We will pass them out to some of the ambassadors and generals.”

Clarke nodded as she pulled a few more pieces of parchment towards herself and started copying the map she’d drawn. She tried to disguise the tremble of her hand as she sketched, but fatigue and pain were wearing her down quickly. Yet she was still startled when a cool hand suddenly clasped her own, effectively causing her to scritch the charcoal across the parchment. She sighed in frustration.

“Enough. You can do it tomorrow. I’m sure Nyko will be none too pleased if his patient collapses here in Heda’s tent.”

Anya looked up at Lexa, and when she nodded almost imperceptibly towards Anya, her face devoid of any emotion; Anya carefully pulled the charcoal from Clarke’s hand, ignoring the girl’s feeble protests. Anya quickly shuffled the parchment together, gathering the charcoal and setting it aside before turning her attention back to the skai girl, who now sat with her head hanging slightly in exhaustion, her hands clasped together tightly to hide the trembling.

Lexa turned to her ambassadors, drawing their attention away from Clarke. She gestured towards her tent entry, “It has been a long morning already. We will reconvene tomorrow. Once Clarke has been able to draw more maps, we will go over them again, and start planning our war in earnest.” She clasped arms with Brigid and then Edric as she ushered them out, talking quietly enough that neither Clarke or Anya could hear.

Anya leaned her butt against the table, arms crossed as she waited for Lexa to return. Once she did, Anya stared meaningfully at Lexa, jerking her chin towards Clarke, who was still looking down at the table. Lexa shook her head slightly, and Anya curled her lips over her teeth, and she almost chuckled when Lexa huffed at her.

Lexa walked to the smaller table, grabbing the plate of food that had been left earlier for her breakfast. She set it down in front of Clarke. “Here. Eat. You need to build up your strength.”

Clarke looked up in surprise before whispering her thanks and turning her attention to the plate of food. She let her fingers skim over the chunk of bread, and she picked up something soft and white. She carefully bit into it, smiling at the way it almost melted on her tongue. She smiled at Lexa and held it up in question.

“Cheese. We make it from the milk of our goats.” She pointed to the green fruit on the plate, “That is a pear. It goes well with the cheese.” She watched as Clarke picked it up carefully and bit into it, and she couldn’t help but smile when the blonde closed her eyes, a small moan escaping her lips. She was mesmerized as she watched the juice from the pear slide down the girl’s chin, and she couldn’t help but flick her tongue against her own lips, when she imagined what the girl’s lips, adorned with pear juice, might taste like.

She finally tore her gaze away when Anya coughed lightly, and when she looked up and saw Anya’s knowing smirk, she growled quietly, but couldn’t keep the blush that burned her cheeks at bay. She turned away from the alluring sight, instead busying herself with the map, idly picking up the blocks representing the clans and moving them around on the the tabletop, but without any real thought of what she was doing.

Anya smiled to herself, happy to see that it wasn’t just her, who obviously found the skai girl attractive. She was tempted to tease Lexa, but she’d learned the hard way that teasing Lexa often ended in Anya’s own regret. So instead, she busied herself with pouring the girl some cool water, knowing that if she tried to give her mulled wine, Nyko would probably yell at her. And it never paid to get on the wrong side of Nyko’s wrath.

Clarke continued to eat slowly, marveling at the tastes bursting on her tongue. She just hoped the food wouldn’t make her sick, like the food had in the Mountain. That wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat. Once she was finally full, she pushed her plate back, slightly embarrassed that she had devoured every scrap, but deciding that if Lexa hadn’t wanted to her eat so much, she wouldn’t have given her the entire plate.

“Thank you, Heda. Your food is delicious.” She felt slightly foolish for stating the obvious, but she didn’t know how else to express the taste of the food. “Especially the pear, and your cheese.” She smiled, relief sweeping through her when Lexa returned her smile with a short nod, and a ghost of a smile playing about her own lips.

“Feeling better?”

Clarke turned her attention to Anya, nodding and smiling. “Yes, thank you. I can finish those maps now if you want?” She looked back and forth between Lexa and Anya, both who simply looked at each other for a moment.

“No, it can wait until tomorrow.”

Clarke nodded once Lexa had spoken. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, unsure if she should ask. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was a prisoner or a guest. “My people...my mother…” Her voice trailed off, and then she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, looking up at Lexa. “I would like to see my people. My mother is on the Council, and I need to tell her that we have an alliance,” she stated firmly. But when Lexa simply stared at her, her gaze faltered, uncertainty entering her voice. “We do have an alliance, right?”

Lexa nodded slowly, “Sha, Clarke kom Skaikru, we have an alliance. You should meet with your Council, bring your leaders back here so we can formalize the agreement. I will send a couple of guards with you and some  food, as a gesture of my goodwill.” She snorted a little, “My scouts tell me that your people haven’t been very successful in hunting the local game, nor in foraging.”

“I will go with her.”

Lexa grit her teeth, turning her head to glare at Anya, but before she could speak; Anya continued: “She can’t go alone, and sending her with strange guards will only make the rest of her people more hesitant. If they see that we are…are...” she gestured between Clarke and herself, stumbling over her words as she wondered how to describe whatever she and Clarke were. She huffed in irritation, “If they see that we know each other, and trust each other; they will be more likely to listen.” She nodded emphatically, satisfied with her answer.

Lexa flexed her jaw, grinding her teeth together in irritation. It was a sound plan actually, and to try to go against it would seem illogical, possibly even petty. Her general had effectively cornered her, without Lexa even able to put up a fight.

She nodded tightly, her eyes speaking volumes as she glared at Anya. “I will send you with three guards and food.”

Clarke nodded eagerly, relief coursing through her veins, unaware of the tension between Anya and Lexa. “Thank you, Heda, that is very generous of you. I won’t let you down.”

Lexa nodded again, her gaze softening slightly as she looked at Clarke. “You will need to rest for a few days. If you leave now, you will never make it. Besides…” she looked up at Anya and smirked, “Anya will need to teach you how to ride a horse. Anya loves teaching.” She almost chuckled out loud when her general’s eyes widened almost comically and then narrowed in cool displeasure. Anya had never been known for her patience, despite being a Fos to Lexa.

Anya bowed her head sharply, clearly miffed, and Clarke looked at her uncertainly. “Of course, Heda.”

“We will discuss this more tomorrow, but for now, my general and I need to get to the training pit. And you should return to the healer’s tent. I’m sure Nyko is growing more and more vexed with each passing moment,” Lexa said dryly as she pulled Clarke’s chair out slightly to help the girl stand.

Clarke nodded, her exhaustion and pain hitting her hard again. The food had helped, but now she simply wanted to collapse back onto her bed of furs.

“Callum!” When the young guard appeared, Lexa gestured towards Clarke, “Escort her back to the healer’s tent, Callum. Make sure she gets there safely, and should anyone attempt to harass her,” she fixed him with a dark look, “do what is necessary. Consider her one of our ambassadors for now.”

Callum nodded eagerly, excited to be entrusted with the care of an ambassador. He straightened his bow on his back and gripped his spear more tightly as he gestured for Clarke to precede him out of the tent, nodding solemnly at Anya and giving a short bow to his Heda.

Lexa watched them go, a mix of worry and frustration settling in her gut. At least she could take care of the latter on the training grounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we have: angst. More angst. hmmmm....oh yes, more angst. Maybe a little bit of fluff? Some flirting. Angst. Sex!!!! Ok, I lied about the sex. But it's coming. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So major shout out to my awesome Twin. She makes this story so much better, and she makes me a better writer. I love you.  
> -Jude
> 
> P.S. Also....GO PATRIOTS!!!

Clarke spent the next two days sitting at a small desk in Lexa’s tent, to draw copies of the Mountain’s map until her fingers cramped or her back hurt so much she could not bear to sit a moment longer. Additional details had emerged from her nightmarish escape the more she drew, and she had become so absorbed with the task that her dreams filled with endless bunker corridors and howling Reapers giving chase as she fled. 

At first she had wondered why Lexa simply didn’t have drawing supplies brought over to the healer’s tent, but she had quickly realized that when the Commander had ordered Callum to treat her like one of the ambassadors she had meant every word. She was no longer a prisoner, but an honored guest, and frequent visitor to Heda’s tent. And during this time, Callum had become her shadow along with a gaggle of other warriors who had been assigned to her as personal guards. They were not exactly friendly, but they carried out their task with deadly seriousness and Clarke had to admit she was glad for their presence.  She hadn’t seen Quint since the Rite, but she knew he wasn’t the only one who had lost loved ones in the fire, and she was sure that some of them probably hated her just as much as he did. And just because their Heda had absolved her, didn’t necessarily mean they would all accept it. Perhaps one of them would be angry and bold enough to do what Quint had done and defy their Heda. So she kept any protests over being followed to herself, knowing it was for the best. 

Being in Lexa’s tent the whole time had also given Heda the opportunity to have Clarke meet other ambassadors and war chiefs. Some had been polite to her; the Smoky Mountains clan General, a tall woman with raven black hair and eyes almost as blue as her own going as far as  _ flirting  _ with her shamelessly whenever they crossed paths

Others had sneered at her openly and doubted every word she spoke. She had lost count of the shouting matches she had witnessed and it was clear that not all of the clans in Lexa’s Coalition were equally loyal. 

She straightened from the latest sketch she had drawn based on Anya’s recollection of the tunnels and rubbed tiredly at her eyes. They burned, and tears had started to blur her vision, a clear sign it was time to take a small break.

It was momentarily quiet inside the tent, early enough that the steady stream of leaders seeking to speak with Lexa hadn’t started up yet. When she had made her way inside, the sun barely peeking over the treetops she had found the place empty - Lexa and Anya already hard at training according to the guards stationed outside - but a stack of blank parchments and charcoals had been laid out for her to use.

She reluctantly pulled another piece towards her and picked up her charcoal again. She had drawn so many maps that she now had them memorized. She stared down at the blank piece of rough parchment, her fingers picking at the small imperfections in the paper. She chewed at her lips, picking at the skin, and her eyes burned with exhaustion. She started to sketch the main tunnel, but her charcoal gritted across the paper, and she felt something empty yawn open inside her chest. 

She started to sketch, her charcoal scritching across the parchment lightly, drawing curves and smooth lines, shading in various parts. She could feel her eyes fill with tears, and it wasn’t until one rolled down her cheek and splatted on the parchment smudging the charcoal, that she let the charcoal fall from her aching fingers. She stared at the picture, the pile of broken bodies in the metal cart crying for help. Most wore the faces of strangers, but some...some looked too much like Jasper and Fox, Harper, and even Tris. And Anya. She gasped in shock, Anya’s cold, unseeing face staring back at her from the rag pile of bodies, and she choked back a sob, shoving the parchment away from her in a hurry, burying it under the mountain of parchment and maps.

She hastily wiped at her eyes, breathing deeply and evenly in an effort to calm her tripping heart.  A lump of ice coalesced inside her, rimming her lungs with frost so thick it became hard to breathe. Had she unwittingly transferred other memories to paper when her tired mind had slipped the leash of self-control? Clarke wasn’t sure and itched to check, but  she heard the even tread of feet that she recognized, and she quickly straightened the messy pile in front of her, picking up her charcoal again just as Lexa entered the tent. 

Lexa nodded to her silently before slipping behind the thick cloth that closed off the tent’s sleeping area. When she emerged, fully changed, she positioned herself at the war table, closed fists resting on its battered surface as she leaned forward to study the map, so still that Clarke felt like she was looking at a statue.

Clarke pushed her chair back and stood, failing to suppress a quiet gasp of pain as she straightened. The scabs on her back were slowly healing, but still pulled at her skin, and she had torn a few of the gashes open before, when she had moved too quickly. Nyko had not been very pleased with her after that. 

Lexa’s eyes flicked away from the map, Clarke’s small whimper evidently enough to distract her from her study of it, and looked to her quizzically. 

“I just need a bit of air,” Clarke murmured ducking her head under the silent scrutiny, “by your leave, Heda?” 

“You don’t have to ask for my permission, Clarke.” Lexa took one look at the blonde’s face and her shoulders trembled slightly as she tried to hold back amusement. Clarke must have rubbed at her eyes and traces of black pigment were smudged across her cheeks. 

“What?” Clarke squirmed under her gaze, blue eyes swirling with confusion. 

“Hold on a moment.” Lexa turned her back to the blonde and quickly walked to her sleeping quarters, pouring water into her washbasin and grabbing a clean towel on the way out. 

When she walked back into the main part of the tent, Clarke seemed if possible even more puzzled. 

She set the items she was carrying down on a free corner of the war table and beckoned the girl over, dipping the edge of the towel into the water. 

“Here,” she reached out holding the wet cloth and halted midway when it looked like Clarke would pull away. Then the blonde’s eyes closed and, taking it for assent, Lexa dabbed gently at her cheeks, removing the traces of charcoal, “It isn’t time for warpaint yet.” 

Even through the towel, she could feel Clarke’s skin heat up with embarrassment and, once she was done cleaning the blonde’s face, she found she could not quite look at her as her own cheeks began to burn. 

“Ahh...thank you… Lexa...” It was the first time the girl called her by name and the brunette felt something unnamed turn in her gut at the intimacy of it. Something must have shown on her face because Clarke stammered an apology, pulling away. 

“No, it’s quite alright.” Lexa reassured, in a tone perhaps more clipped than she intended. The blonde gave her a weak smile then left the tent in a hurry, muttering again about needing some fresh air. The Commander sighed, returning the basin and cloth to her bedside, the tent feeling almost too empty all of a sudden.

Clarke hurried from the tent, the lingering feeling of Lexa’s fingers touching her face, albeit through cloth, burning like a white-hot brand against her skin. She was grateful for the cold air that cut at her frame as soon as she stepped outside. She shivered, noting that the sun was a pallid disc that gave off barely any warmth and the shadows around the camp appeared darker and more numerous.  She was continually amazed at how quickly the weather had changed from humid to biting cold. She supposed it was an ongoing consequence of the radiation. 

As usual when her eyes travelled to the rows of tents surrounding the village of TonDC, Clarke felt awe sweeping over her. The camp had grown to twice its size since Anya had marched her to Lexa days before, and more warbands trickled in every day. Lexa had explained to her that every clan was sending warriors to fight against the Mountain, but some had quite the distance to cover, and it would take some time for the army to reach the ideal size. 

As soon as they spotted her, Clarke’s guards straightened and walked to her, Callum hastily scooping up the dice they had been tossing between them. Clarke’s eyebrows rose when she realized they were all wearing a new armband. They had exchanged the black and green one Trikru warriors usually sported for a piece of linen tinted midnight blue, with a white six pointed star embroidered on it.

“It was Callum’s idea,” Thany, the only woman in the group explained, following Clarke’s surprised gaze. 

The blonde smiled, feeling something akin to pride dissipate the lingering fog of dread that memories of the Mountain had cast over her mind.

She looked to each of the warriors in turn, and they stared back impassively. They were not much older than she was, but already hardship had left its mark on them. Scars from past wars and deep lines dug by grief adorned their faces, and no amount of ink would ever hide that. Clarke felt like a floundering child in comparison.   

She bowed slightly. “You honor me.” 

It must have been the right thing to say because they all nodded, hard faces softening for a moment. Some, like Callum and Thany actually smiled at her. 

They stood awkwardly there for a moment, silence hovering too thickly between them all. And she realized suddenly that they were waiting for her. To move, to give direction, to order...they were hers to command, their loyalty to her just born. The armbands spoke far louder than any words could. She nodded gratefully to them. 

Clarke began to walk, not really knowing where to, and they fell in step, carefully watching all sides for dangers. 

“And was the stitching your doing also?” Clarke couldn’t help but ask, as she reached out to outline the star on Callum’s arm with one finger. He missed a step, turning bright red and looked away. 

The others laughed and began to tease the young man, making him turn even redder. Then they rounded a corner and, when a group of warriors with armor edged in white fur came into view, they went all quiet. 

These men and women had hair as light as Clarke’s, but the similarities ended there. They looked tough as old roots, and the scars that carved angular designs on their cheeks and brows added savagery to them. Clarke would never call a Trikru warrior soft, but it felt like the newcomers reveled in flaunting their warlike nature.  For a brief moment, Clarke had the fleeting thought that they were more beast than man, and she barely managed to suppress the cold shudder that rippled through her muscles. 

“Azgeda,” Callum spit on the ground, then glanced at Clarke and blushed,” “uh...sorry.” 

Clarke waved his apology away, intrigued by his obvious distaste. “Who are they?” 

“Queen Nia’s people,” he answered distractedly. His eyes never left the warband and he was resting a hand on the hilt of the dagger at his waist. The others tightened into a circle around Clarke, and all fingered the hilts of swords and knives, as if expecting trouble. “We can attack the Maunon without them, if you ask me.” 

“Nobody asked you, boy.” Nyko’s voice was cutting as he shouldered his way inside the ring of warriors. 

Callum spluttered indignantly under the healer’s flinty stare, muttering something angrily in the grounders’ dialect. Clarke had learned a handful of words from Anya, but he talked too fast for her to follow. One name he repeated several times drew her attention. Costia. 

“Em pleni!” Thany cuffed the youth on the back of his head and he gave an affronted yelp. She cast Clarke a glance full of meanings utterly lost to the blonde, “that’s not for any of us to discuss.” 

Callum relented and moved back into the circle, making such a fuss of his hurting head that Nyko snorted. “I can give you a potion if you think Thany hit you too hard.” 

“Oh no healer,” Callum snatched his hand away from the back of his neck, grimacing like he could already taste the foul concoction,  “I am alright.” 

Nyko grunted, then turn his gaze to Clarke. 

“I’ve come to get you. Anya wants me to look at your wounds to see if you are fit for riding.” Clarke could tell by his clipped tone he didn’t like the idea of her bouncing around on a horse, but when a General ordered something he had to obey like the rest. She followed without comment, promising herself she would do her best to learn fast. Her people, and the Mountain were waiting. 

***************

“Enough”

Anya lowered the blunted sword, letting her arm fall to her side. The warrior facing her, a youth fifteen or sixteen winters old, sagged forward in evident relief. She snorted bitterly as she watched him join his friends and beeline to put the training weapons back on the rack. She had stayed behind to help the trainers when Lexa had left earlier on to attend to her duties. Trikru was one of the largest clans, but the loss of three hundred men was keenly felt and with bands from Azgeda finally making their way into camp tempers were bound to flare. Trikru needed to be back at full strength as soon as possible.

She walked off, suppressing a grimace when the muscles in her thighs and back began to burn. Leza had told her she was pushing herself too hard, but exhaustion was the only thing that made her nights more bearable. Visions of horror from her days inside Mount Weather crowded her dreams. Anya felt trapped, haunted, and so during the day she pushed herself harder than Nyko had advised, and she fucked Lexa every night, in an urgent, desperate way. After she would collapse into her lover’s arms, but sometimes the nightmares came regardless.

When she made her way to Heda’s tent, Lexa was bent over the war table, occasionally shifting the markers on the map, and the place where Clarke sat to draw the maps for them was vacant. Anya felt a flutter of disappointment at the blonde’s absence, and puzzlement following hard on its heels. 

Lexa raised her head in greeting and they exchanged a small smile, then Anya went to pour herself a cup of water and grabbed bread and cheese from a table Heda’s handmaidens always kept well stocked with food. Everyone knew that the Commander’s days were long and hard, and that she would forget to eat sometimes if food was not brought to her. Anya’d had to remind her more often then not that she needed to eat. 

Idly munching on the cheese, Anya walked to Clarke’s desk and leafed through the stack of papers.

“She worked hard,” she said, marvelling at the stack of maps the blonde had drawn in just two days.

“Sha, she did.” Lexa replied distractedly, absorbed by the strategies she was reviewing inside her head. There was a warm note in her voice that had been missing the other times she had spoken about the girl and a knowing smile graced Anya’s lips. Good thing Lexa had her back turned. 

One of the parchments was creased, as if someone had hurriedly thrust it at the bottom of the pile. She tugged it out carefully, and the tart cheese turned to ash on her tongue. 

A black abyss yawned open, swallowing her whole. She stared at the pile of corpses, frozen in the agony of death. Some of the faces were strangers, but others she knew: the one they had found agonizing on the cart, and Tris. Her own empty eyed face was caught in a silent scream and Anya felt like retching at the sight. The drawing was imbued with pain and suffering, and in between the sinuous lines she could read the guilt, so similar to her own, that must keep Clarke awake at night. 

Anya had wondered why she was still alive when so many others had been devoured by the Mountain’s famished maws and Clarke must be asking herself the same. Then another thought struck like a sharp knife between her ribs - the blonde still blamed herself for Tris’ death. They had never talked about that, but perhaps they should. The thing Anya tried not to dwell too much on was why exactly Clarke had felt the need to draw Anya among the dead. Yet the thought that the girl was perhaps afraid to lose her came unbidden and she fought it down with a snarl. 

The parchment creaked softly in her grasp and she realized she was holding it far too tight. Holding the drawing in one hand, she hurriedly sifted through the rest, keeping a careful eye on Lexa. For some reason she didn’t want the Commander to see those, not before she had talked to Clarke about it. 

She was startled by her own thought. Talking about feelings had never been her forte, and she normally tried to avoid any situation that might require an analysis of her own emotions. She had always been more of a doer, and the last time she had really attempted to delve into the snare of human emotion was after Costia had been taken and then executed. Those long, harrowing weeks of trying to comfort Lexa, when she was ill-equipped to do so, had been fraught with enough pain and emotional upheaval to last her a life time. But now she was considering doing it again, and for who? This girl from the sky, this invader? This girl with the sad, ocean eyes who had saved her life? This girl who took her punishment like a warrior, who was ready to sacrifice everything for her people, who sometimes looked at Anya like she meant something to her. Anya winced at the warmth that bloomed in her chest at the thought that Clarke might care for her, or was at least intrigued by her. 

She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on it any further for now. She turned her attention back to the parchment, her heart aching. There were more pictures, scattered among the maps. Rows of bodies hanging upside down as tubes drained them of their blood, and _ripas,_ teeth filed into horrifying fangs, gorging themselves on human flesh.  

She forced herself to look at each one of them, the fury building in her chest as she remembered the pinch of the needles in her arms and legs, being hoisted into the air like a dead animal to be drained. She closed her eyes for a moment, her hands shaking as she dropped the pictures back on the table. She felt the bile push it’s way up her throat, and she could hear their weak cries for help, their moans of pain; row upon row of her people stuffed into metal cages. And then some had stopped their feeble cries, and they were hauled out of the cages, their bodies thrown unceremoniously down a chute. And she hadn’t known. Hadn’t realized what that really meant. She had believed that their suffering was over, and she had thanked the gods, but she hadn’t known.  Not until Clarke had saved her, and they’d ended up in a metal cart, their bodies bouncing on top of her almost dead brethren. And then the ripas came with their sharpened teeth, tearing into the flesh of her sisters and brothers, and then she understood. 

Her shoulders slumped, and she took a deep, shuddering breath, pushing the horrors down as far as she could, stamping out the moans and pleas that reverberated in her head. There wasn’t time to be weak. There was too much to do. She had a Mountain to burn. She straightened her back, pulling her shattered emotions around her like armor. She scooped up the pictures, carefully folding the parchments and tucking them into the waist of her pants, under her shirt. These weren’t meant for Lexa’s eyes. They weren’t even meant for hers. But she couldn’t refuse the stark, naked grief painted so clearly in every line and curve on the parchment. She would have to speak to Clarke. 

********************************** 

An hour later found Anya and Clarke leaning on the rough poles of the fence that circled the dirt paddock. Clarke could do little but stare in awe of the giant war horses that milled inside the clearing, while Anya spoke quietly about the finer points of riding. Clarke wasn’t paying much attention, too enraptured watching the horses nudge each other playfully, some dozing in the weak sun, others pawing lightly at the dirt, tossing their heads in challenge. 

She watched for a few more minutes, admiring the they way they trotted in the paddock, their tails flying in the air, their coats of many colors flashing before her eyes, until one caught her eye. He stepped forward from the back of the corral, and the other horses parted slowly, bit by bit, stomping their hooves as they backed up, unwilling to meet his challenge. 

He approached slowly, dipping his nose down and up, lifting his hooves high. He snorted and whinnied, suddenly kicking up his heels and charging a few steps, before sliding to a halt. And despite the thick wooden poles that kept him at bay, Clarke still jerked back and away. 

Clarke blushed when she heard Anya’s amused chuckle, and she glanced up quickly before turning her attention back to the horse. She cautiously put her foot up on the bottom rail, and then her other foot and pushed herself into the air. She grabbed the top rail firmly in her hands and leaned slightly to get a better look at him. He still stood about eight feet from her, but even with the distance and the light film of dust that covered him, she could see the burnished red of his coat. He was tall, taller than most of the other horses,  and his hooves left deep furrows in the dirt. When another horse got too close, he reared up menacingly, lips peeled back to show wicked-looking teeth. The two stallions snapped at each other, then the challenger shook his mane as he lowered his head and Clarke knew that the red was king of the paddock.

“What is his name? Can I ride him?” Clarke looked down eagerly at Anya, but frowned when the woman laughed abruptly. 

“No, he is barely tame. He is still mostly wild, and he is picky about whom he lets ride him. He would sooner throw you to the ground and stomp on you than let you get too close to him.” Anya reached up, letting both her hands rest on Clarke’s waist as she gently tugged her backwards, until Clarke released the top rail and dropped back to the ground. 

“Also, don’t try to pat him. He will bite you.” 

Clarke quickly jerked her hand back from between the rails where she had been reaching out towards him. She had been momentarily delighted when he’d taken two steps towards her, his nose reaching out. She blushed again at Anya’s knowing look. She looked away, acutely uncomfortable as the heat flushed across her cheeks and neck. She shrugged her shoulders, still not looking at Anya. 

“We didn’t have animals on board the Ark. I only ever saw pictures, and horses were my favorite.” She looked down at the dirt, kicking at it lightly. “It’s all still so new…” her voice trailed off. 

Anya bit her lip, trying not to smile at the embarrassed flush that had blossomed across the girl’s fair skin. She looked like a kicked a puppy, and Anya felt something warm inside her belly. And before she could stop herself, she reached out and grabbed Clarke’s hand, tugging her towards another enclosure that contained a few horses, all smaller than the ones in the first fence. 

“Come, these horses are ponies, and are perfect for beginners.” She smiled at Clarke’s look of disappointment, and she squeezed her hand lightly. “Once you have learned to ride, I’m sure Lexa will gift you with your own horse. Perhaps even a warhorse like the ones we just saw. But for now, you need to learn to ride one of these.” She pointed towards the ponies.

Clarke swallowed her disappointment and nodded. It made sense. 

“You can pick which one of them you want to ride.” Anya added, still smiling.

When Clarke lifted her hands to grab the railing and hoist herself up again for a better look, she realized Anya’s fingers were still entwined with her own. The warrior’s hand was warm and dry against hers, her skin calloused by hard work and sword training. Clarke was reluctant to pull away, and when she finally forced herself to do so, she felt Anya’s fingers resist and tug at hers for a moment. They exchanged a timid smile, before Clarke turned away, pointedly looking at the ponies to hide her blush. She heard Anya heave a small sigh and time seemed to freeze for a moment, coalescing around her like cool honey, her heart the only thing that moved, thumping so hard against her ribs she thought it’d crack them open.

Then one of the ponies snickered, and time resumed its normal flowing.

Most of the animals chewed on the stunted tufts of grass inside the pen with disinterest, but one of them, a sturdy-looking grey had been grazing closer and closer to them and when Clarke extended her arm, he trotted over, letting her scratch behind his ears.

“This one.” She laughed when the pony raised his head, nuzzling the palm of her hand. 

Anya nodded, walking off to recover an old blanket and a saddle. When she came back, she smiled at Clarke indulgently: the girl had managed to climb over the fence and she was standing next to the pony, breathless with laughter while he nosed curiously at her clothes in search of food.  

She stepped up to the pony and saddled him with practiced movements, Clarke watching her intently. 

“I expect you to do this yourself tomorrow,” Anya said as she worked, “and feed him and rub him down later, after we are done. Take care of your horse, Clarke, and your equipment and you won’t ever be let down.” 

She saw Clarke nod, face serious, the girl clearly understanding that the lesson had begun in earnest.  The pony was not tall at all, compared to the warhorses, but Anya still cupped her hands to offer Clarke a boost. The blonde shook her head slightly, and climbed onto the saddle on her own, obviously keen to show she could be as tough as any of the people around her. Still, the General caught a grimace  of pain tug at the corner of Clarke’s lips.

Anya felt pride at the blonde’s composure spark inside her chest, its warmth chasing off the cold shadows that had crowded around her heart since the Mountain. She took the pony’s bridle, starting a slow walk around the paddock. She glanced back every few paces and didn’t miss the dark, tired smudges under the girl’s eyes, not the faraway look that sometimes dimmed the blue of her irises to the slate- grey of a rainy day, as if Clarke wasn’t seeing the things around her, but something far darker. Anya had the feeling she knew exactly what it was. The admiration she had felt for Clarke since the girl had shown her strength as they fled those horrors took on a deeper meaning; here was someone that could help her make sense of the tangle of her own emotions. This new kinship she now felt for Clarke was new and confusing, perhaps even exciting, but what it meant for her and Lexa...that she didn’t know.

Anya turned her gaze ahead and kept walking as she chewed her lip pensively, wondering how best to bring the topic up. She could feel the horror they had been exposed to hang heavily between them, an almost electric tension like the air right before a storm broke out. In the past the warrior had readily offered Lexa her advice and support when the younger woman had come to her, but she’d never initiated such moments herself. She touched her waist discreetly, feeling the parchments tucked under her shirt creak softly as she moved, and she resolved to walk on and use her time with Clarke to think on it further - perhaps the blonde would offer her the right opening.  

She idly wondered when it had become a need for her to speak to the blonde, to try to offer her some semblance of comfort and understanding. And when had she even had the desire to speak to Clarke about her own dreams? She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, her eyes not watching where they were going, her feet knowing the way, as she had trod the same path a thousand times before. She rubbed the worn leather lead in her hand, breathing in deeply the dirt and wind, the tangy smell of the pony. There would be time later. She needed to focus. 

“We are going to go out of the paddock and walk in the woods for a while, so you can get used to the pony’s movements on rougher terrain.” The General called over her shoulder. 

Clarke watched Anya open the enclosure’s gate and lead her out. The last time she had been on a horse she had shared the saddle with the warrior and as the wind picked up, sending chills rushing down her back, she realized that she missed Anya’s warmth against her. 

She thanked the stars that the General wasn’t glancing back any longer, because there was no way for her to hide the spots of scarlet heating up her cheeks. It was getting harder and harder to discount the attraction she felt towards the General and she was starting to think she would not mind knowing where it could lead.

With effort, the blonde pulled her mind from fantasies that could send her tumbling off the pony. The animal was moving more erratically under her now, and she had to concentrate on shifting her weight accordingly as Anya led them deeper into the forest. Trees pressed down on them on every side, some of them so ancient that Clarke could almost feel their age, a primal force that made her bones ache and vibrate with the echoes of a time long past, when her ancestors had knows how it was to live attuned with nature. The Grounders remembered and perhaps her own people would learn from them, if they kept an open mind.

The forest was dark and full of unknown noises, animals prowling on the hunt and birds fluttering from branch to branch high above, their calls seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Everytime she had ventured in the woods to forage or hunt, Clarke had felt like an intruder and that had filled her with dread, but Anya’s presence was calming, and she began to study the way the General seemed to glide across the forest’s floor, leaving even the smallest twig undisturbed.

The pony faltered, tossing his head so hard he ripped the reins from her grasp and right after a cloying smell hit her nose, making the blonde jerk in surprise. It spoke of things decaying in dank, hidden places, and maggots writhing through rotting flesh as they slowly devoured matter, breaking it down into its basic constituents. 

Clarke looked around for the source of the stench and her eyes widened, nose wrinkling in disgust when she spotted a half eaten carcass at the foot of an oak so gnarled it made her neck ache to follow its curves. Judging by the discolored bits of flesh and offal scattered around, the deer had been there for some time, whatever had killed it probably disturbed as it fed. Its head had been clawed clean off the rest of the body and, as Clarke looked into the animal’s dead eyes, pupils blinded by a white film of mucus, dizziness swept over her and the nightmares that haunted her sleep stared back, taking tangible form.

She  scrambled off the pony’s back so fast that she fell onto her knees, bits of wood and rocks scraping at the palms of her hands when she hit the ground. The world receded into nothingness, and bile surged up her throat. Clarke cried out in anguish while shadows birthed from her mind crowded around her. She knew they were the ones she had abandoned at the Mountain and she retched noisily, tears of guilt rolling freely down her cheeks. The shades stared down at her implacable in their accusation and shame grew white-hot inside her chest. Her ribs went up in flames, as easily as pieces of dry wood and her heart blazed until it was nothing more than a handful of ashes that swirled madly in the furnace of her chest.

Anya stared in shock. 

It had happened so quickly, she had been caught unawares, and she cursed as she dropped the pony’s lead. She bent down and scooped Clarke up in her arms, ignoring the vomit that stained the girl’s mouth. She strode quickly off the path, away from the rotting carcass and towards the small stream that gurgled only a few feet away. 

Once she made it to the bank, she carefully set her down on the grass and stood up, stepping back from the crying girl. Uncertainty gnawed at her ribs like a starving winter wolf, and her hands shook slightly as she tried to calm her own breathing. The rush of adrenaline that coursed through her blood made her muscles twitch, and she turned away to hide the almost nervous tick of her shoulders. She knelt down next to the bank, trying to ignore the choking sobs behind her, but she couldn’t. She unwrapped her cloth armband and dipped it into the water, wringing it out part way. 

She turned back to Clarke, crouching in front of her, and she gently held the cloth out to her, but when the blonde simply looked at her with wet blue eyes, something clenched viciously in Anya’s chest. She cupped her chin and gently wiped the vomit away, before washing the cloth again, and then turning back to wipe the girl’s tears away. 

She sat down next to her, surprised when Clarke leaned into her shoulder, practically slumping against her in exhaustion. Anya hesitated, her stomach rolling a little, but then she lifted her arm and wrapped it around Clarke’s shoulders, gently drawing her firmly into her side. 

“I-I’m sorry,” whimpered Clarke, her voice rough and strained. “I don’t know why...I mean...I…” her voice trailed off in another broken sob. 

“I do,” muttered Anya as she looked up at the sky, barely squinting against the weak sun. She looked back down, her gaze softly roving across the girl’s face. She was beautiful, even with skin too pale, and blotchy pink blossoms staining her skin. She tightened her arm around her, surprised by the rush of protectiveness she suddenly felt. 

She shifted, and felt the parchment scrape her belly. She barely stifled her chuckle. The gods had handed her the perfect moment. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “I saw them. The pictures you drew.” She felt the girl immediately tense and start to draw away from her, but Anya tightened her hold and shook her head lightly, tching at her until she relaxed again. 

“I dream about them,” whispered Clarke. She closed her eyes, turning her face slightly into Anya’s warm chest. She could smell the leather and smoke, the tang of horse, and something else, something almost musky and woodsy. She wondered if it was Anya that filled her nose and made her want to inhale sharply, draw her deeply into her chest and hold her there. 

“So do I.” 

So caught up in her thoughts, she almost missed the three simple words that fell from Anya’s lips in a whisper. She looked up, her nose bumping Anya’s neck. She could see the strong angular jaw of the older woman, and she could tell she was clenching it. The little muscles in her jaw jumped, and Clarke knew what it must have cost her to admit it. She had learned enough about Anya to know that she hated to appear weak, and Anya would consider her own nightmares to be a sign of weakness. 

She looked up further, her nose brushing against the soft skin just under Anya’s jaw, and she smiled a little when the general stiffened and then let out a shaky breath. She was so tempted to close the miniscule distance, tilt her head, and press her mouth against the general’s fluttering pulse. But she caught herself before her desire could overrule her head. Anya was not her’s, and she would not betray Lexa like that. She didn’t question the sadness she felt as she turned her head back down, although she wondered if the sharp pain she’d felt was more about knowing Anya wasn’t her’s or about the thought of betraying Lexa. 

She rested her head on Anya’s chest, looking out at the small stream. She could hear the water running over the stones, babbling in a language she didn’t understand. She wondered if Anya and Lexa understood it. Her eyes drifted shut, and she relaxed into Anya’s body, enjoying her warmth in the light breeze. 

After a few moments, she opened her eyes, a troubling thought having burrowed its way into her mind. “Do you think I’m weak, because I have nightmares?”

Anya jerked against Clarke, so surprised by the question, was she. She looked down into worried blue eyes and shook her head. “No, you aren’t weak, Clarke. You have more than proven your strength.” 

“But you think you are weak for having them also?”

Anya stiffened and ground her teeth, “It’s different,” she muttered. She looked down in her lap, picking at the worn leather on her leg.

“What if it were Lexa who had the nightmares? Would you think her weak?” 

Anya cursed under her breath, her mind slamming back into those long, dark weeks and months when dreams of Costia’s death had tortured Lexa, and Anya had been unable to do anything but hold her through the long nights when neither of them slept. Lexa’s guilt and anger had almost destroyed her. She was the same Heda during the day, perhaps colder and wiser, but at night, she crumbled in Anya’s arms as if she were nothing more than dried rot. And each night Anya picked up the pieces and rebuilt her into Heda and shoved her out of her tent in the wee hours of the morning to lead her people, only to repeat the vicious cycle again the next night. 

She sighed heavily, “Heda has never been weak.” She shook her head, not knowing how to explain to Clarke that she still needed to be the strong one. That Anya needed to be strong enough to let Lexa still crumble in her arms, so Anya could build her back up again, piece by piece. No, Lexa wasn’t weak either. She just needed to rest in Anya’s arms, and Anya needed to be strong. Always.

“Lexa must know.” Clarke held her breath as she looked up at Anya, both wishing and dreading for Anya to look at her, instead of glowering at the small brook. She knew she was pushing a line, but she couldn’t stop herself for some reason. She wanted to know everything Anya, and it was a dangerous game she was playing. Somehow she didn’t think Lexa would take too kindly to Clarke wanting her lover. 

“We don’t speak of it,” Anya bit out, clearly growing more and more uncomfortable with each passing moment. 

“Maybe you should.”

Anya ignored her, not wanting to get into the intricacies of her relationship with Lexa, not wanting to admit that maybe she wanted to speak about what had happened. 

“Y-you could speak to me?” 

Anya jerked in surprise looking down at Clarke. She searched her face for a moment, seeing no guile or judgement, just an almost timid desire shining in CLarke’s eyes. She swallowed hard, suddenly acutely aware of the soft curves pressed into her more angular body. She dropped her gaze to Clarke’s hands, surprised to see that one of them was resting casually on her upper thigh. She didn’t even think Clarke was aware of it, and she smiled when Clarke suddenly jerked her hand back. 

“Sorry,” muttered Clarke, the blush heating her cheeks immediately. “I didn’t mean to…” she gestured vaguely towards Anya’s lap. 

Anya chuckled, but it died quickly leaving ash behind in her mouth. She sighed heavily. “I hear them at night. The ones in the cages. They whimper. Some moan.” She swallowed hard, her voice breaking a little, “And some are young. Sekens. Taken with their Fos. They don’t last long. They are drained almost immediately.” She didn’t speak for a moment, before finally continuing, her voice almost thoughtful, “They look like skinned baby goats hanging upside down, being drained all their blood away before they are consumed.” 

Clarke didn’t bother to brush away  the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Somehow she knew that Anya wouldn’t cry for herself, so she cried for her. She slid her fingers across the balled fist in Anya’s lap. She rubbed her thumb over the top softly, and after a few moments, Anya’s hand slowly relaxed. And she knew Anya was done speaking. It was a start. 

“The dead in the cart...they are usually people I love,” she choked when she quickly remembered that she had drawn Anya in the cart, “or people I know,” she finished hurriedly, hoping Anya wouldn’t question it. “I always feel so helpless. I try to save them all, but I can’t, and then the ripas come. And they are still alive, and stare at me accusingly.” 

Anya nodded slowly, opening her hand and threading her fingers through Clarke’s. She rubbed her thumb over the top of Clarke’s hand, and neither of them spoke again. The brook babbled on in a language only it knew, and the sun beat down weakly, and a doe and her fawn stepped out of the brush upstream and drank from the brook. 

************************** 

Eventually they stood and returned to the pony, Anya helped Clarke mount, and Clarke didn’t protest, the emotional exhaustion exacting a heavy price. Her entire body ached, and her back burned. Neither spoke as they walked back down the path towards the village. 

The blonde had to bring up the last dregs of her energy to remain on the saddle, and she swayed slightly as the pony plodded placidly along. Eventually the silence grew too heavy to bear, the thoughts tumbling through her mind merging into a shrill whistle inside her ears. It build up and little by little became a fearsome wall of white noise, crashing onto her head, and Clarke found she had no choice but to speak, or risk going mad.  

“Thank you for the lesson Anya. It was fun. Well, except for the vomiting.” 

“We’ll see tomorrow if you still feel like thanking me Clarke,” Anya snickered amused,  then added in a stricter tone, “I do expect you to show up at first light, no matter how sore you are. Now that we figured out you can sit on a pony without falling for the most part, we’ll put you on an actual horse. Otherwise it will take us weeks to reach you people.” 

Clarke’s spirits lifted a little with the light banter, but soon enough silence descended again, the phantom of the Mountain not so easily defeated.

They left the woods behind, and Anya slowly led the pony back towards the enclosure, Clarke slumped on the saddle, eyes itching with more unshed tears. She tried to let her mind be lulled by the animal’s rocking motions, but what they had discussed stubbornly refused to leave her thoughts. 

“I could teach you to ride better than that!” A voice called from the edge of the meadow and when Clarke raised her head she saw Linnea, the Smoky Mountains General grin widely in her direction. 

“Or perhaps,” the woman said, moving closer, “I could teach you to ride something different.” She raised a hand, wiggling her fingers suggestively and Clarke’s face was suddenly on fire.

Anya growled, the sound rumbling from deep within her chest, and her hand tightened on the pony’s lead as she glowered at Linnea, who sauntered towards them with all the grace of a stalking panther. The warrior tossed the lead over the hitching post, and after opening the gate to the paddock, she turned back to help Clarke down, knowing the girl would be in pain. 

But Linnea had beaten her to it, and Anya barely managed to refrain from cursing at the General when she saw that Clarke was now standing on the ground in the circle of Linnea’s arms. And judging from the red staining the girl’s cheeks, she was either embarrassed or pleased. Anya didn’t want to think too hard about the burn that had taken up residence in her chest, or the heat that boiled in her belly.

“Come, Clarke, I will show you how to unsaddle and wipe down the pony. It’s important to make sure he’s been well taken care of. We will also give him a small portion of grain.”

“I would be happy to teach her, Anya, as I’m sure you have better things to do.” 

Anya glared at the other general and hissed, “That’s General to you.” She outranked the Smoky Mountain General, and normally Anya wouldn’t pull rank so blatantly against another general, but the woman was getting on her last nerve. “And since I started this lesson, I will finish it. Perhaps your time would be better spent in the training pit.” 

Linnea grit her teeth in anger before nodding graciously. She turned back to Clarke, stepping away from the blonde, but letting her fingers drag all the way down Clarke’s arms, before settling both hands on Clarke’s hips and squeezing lightly. “I hope I will see you again, Skai Girl.” She leaned in, so her lips were almost against Clarke’s ear, “I hope I see a lot more of you.” And with that, she stepped away, turning and giving Anya a jaunty salute, before chuckling and swaggering off to the training pits. 

Anya growled under her breath, as she led the pony into the paddock. She hastily began to strip off his saddle and cloth, and only stopped when Clarke grabbed her arm. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be showing me how to do that?” 

Anya bit back a groan of annoyance, cursing the general in her mind, and thinking up all manner of punishments to inflict upon her. She nodded sheepishly, and stepped back allowing Clarke to finish the job as she gave her instructions. Once Clarke had finished rubbing down the pony and feeding him, they started walking back towards the village, stopping at the larger paddock that housed the warhorses. 

“So this Linnea…?” Clarke’s voice trailed off, as she wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say. She couldn’t deny that the general was attractive, and certainly bold enough. 

Anya snorted, “She has a reputation for fucking any woman with two legs.”

Clarke looked up at Anya, before turning back towards the horses, her gaze immediately finding the big red. She smiled when he tossed his head at her. “I see. So I’m just convenient. I’m a woman with two legs, and that is all that makes me fuckable,” she commented dryly as she continued to watch the horses. 

Anya sputtered when she realized what she had said, and she winced. “No! I mean...of course not...th-that’s not what I meant,” she finished lamely, her face burning as she stumbled over her words. “I mean, you are beautiful, of course she wants to, who wouldn’t?” She winced again, silently cursing her own bumbling. 

“I see,” Clarke turned back towards Anya, “So you think I’m beautiful?” 

Anya choked and sputtered, her mouth falling open, as she gestured vainly in front of her. But no words came out. 

Clarke decided to take pity on the floundering general. She laughed and squeezed Anya’s arm, “Breathe, Anya. It’s ok. I was just teasing you.” 

Anya nodded and tried to regain control of her breathing, flummoxed at how quickly her heart was beating in her chest. She shook her head ruefully and stared at Clarke out of the corner of her eye. “What I meant was, Linnea is known for leaving a string of broken hearts behind her.. I would hate...I wouldn’t want you to….” She sighed, wishing she could just bury her head in her hands. 

Clarke smiled a little and nodded. She stared at the big red, clucking to him, and he looked up at her, perusing her carefully before turning his back on her and returning to the tufts of grass. He was pointedly ignoring her now, and it made her smile. She would win him over. She was committed now. 

“I’m not interested. Not in what she wants. At least not with her.” 

Anya almost swallowed her own tongue. The unsaid words hung heavily between them, and Anya didn’t dare look at the blonde. She just nodded mutely, staring straight ahead, trying to ignore the mad tripping of her heart and the pleasant warmth suffusing her body. So it was a welcome relief when some of the younger children in the village came scurrying over to look at the Skai Girl and start asking her questions about living in the sky. She smiled and left Clarke to answer their questions as best as she could. 

She walked slowly back to her tent. She nodded to the guards, realizing that Lexa was inside. She hesitated for a moment, her hand going to her belly where the parchments rested. She sighed and stepped into the tent. Once her eyes had adjusted, she waved the guard inside away. And when Lexa looked up from her table in confusion, Anya nodded, biting her lip. 

“We need to talk.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun ta dun dun DUN!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya comes to terms with her nightmares. Also sex, lots of sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally longer, but we decided to split it in two parts as there are two scenes happening in parallel. The first part shows Lexa and Anya growing closer and building their relationship into one that will in the future include Clarke. 
> 
> The second part which will be posted later this week, deals with Clarke, her growing feelings for Anya and the realization that Lexa fits in the equation as well. Afterwards we plan to have a good amount of clexa before finally beginning our journey to the Skaikru camp.
> 
> (We also included something rarely seen in any fandom and hope you don't mind)
> 
> Enjoy!

_“We need to talk.”_

Lexa nodded, pulling herself away from the table she’d been hunched over. There was something in Anya’s voice, something she rarely ever heard, and she knew enough that Anya needed her full attention, needed Lexa to not only listen but to understand.

She walked over to the smaller table that held their evening meal. She grabbed the pitcher of mulled wine. She poured two mugs and pulled out both chairs, gesturing for Anya to sit down, but the older woman shook her head, clearly agitated as she began to pace silently.

Lexa sat down, deciding to give Anya a few moments to work out what she wanted to say. She knew sometimes her lover needed the space to be able to work out what she was trying to articulate, especially if it had to do with their relationship. She felt something tighten in her belly, and her mouth suddenly felt dry. She sipped at the wine, trying to ignore the sudden anxiety that scratched at her ribs.

She watched as Anya rubbed at her face with both hands, before dropping one hand to rest against her belly, as she paced back and forth. Lexa’s eyes narrowed in contemplation as she carefully scrutinized every movement of Anya’s, every grimace, every time she patted her belly. She sighed.

“Anya, look at me,” she commanded softly but with a thread of steel underlining each word. Once Anya finally stopped and looked at her, her shoulders slightly slumped, Lexa’s worry grew two-fold. Anya was more pale than normal, her eyes had a tinge of red around them, her skin darkened around her eyes. She was exhausted, and she couldn’t quite bring her gaze to meet Lexa’s.

Lexa put down her mug, swallowing hard. It had been so long since she’d been soft for anyone. She’d only ever really been soft with Costia. Anya had never really required it of her, but now she could see edges of Anya fracturing. The Mountain had exacted a greater toll than Lexa had originally thought. She had always seen Anya as invincible, stronger than herself. She had grown up in the Polis orphanage, smaller than her counterparts, and she’d had to work harder, run faster, fight longer and more fiercely to be taken seriously. And she had gained notoriety in battle as the last warrior standing, the warrior who never laid down her weapon. And she had become Lexa’s mentor, her Fos, her confidante, her champion and general, her rock, and her lover.

Lexa winced, a bitter wind sweeping through her chest. Anya had been everything to her, and she had given so little back. Her mouth tasted sour, and she cursed herself angrily as she stared at her lover and general, who was a little more broken than she had realized.

She stood up and grasped Anya’s hand, pulling her to the chair and pushing her down in it. She slid the mug towards Anya, and grabbed the orange, peeling it carefully and offering it to Anya. “You need to eat. You are exhausted.” She hesitated, licking her lips. This was territory that she wasn’t sure she wanted to trespass into, but she knew she needed to. Anya deserved a lover who was willing to be more than just a bed warmer.

“Your nightmares…” she let her voice trail off when Anya stiffened, her hand tightening around the mug of wine.

Anya shook her head, “They are nothing. They will pass.”

“They haven’t passed. And you try to distract yourself every night by fucking me, or letting me fuck you,” Lexa replied, each word like a blunt sword striking at Anya. “You are no good to me, if you aren’t at your best.” She winced, knowing it wasn’t what she really wanted to say.

Anya snarled, shoving her chair back as she clambered to her feet. “I am the best of your generals. I am stronger and better than all of your warriors. I will not fail you.”

Lexa reached out and grabbed at Anya’s hips, pulling her towards her. “I am not questioning your worth as my general, or as my lover.” She sighed, dropping her head lightly, reminding herself that she needed to be soft with Anya, that Anya needed it from her, even if Anya wouldn’t ask it of her. “I want you to be able to sleep through the night.”

She slipped her arms around the back of Anya’s thighs, pulling her close and laying her cheek against Anya’s belly. “I want to be what you need,” she whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling like she’d just confessed something that might not be welcome. She and Anya rarely discussed their relationship. It had just happened, and none of her people had ever questioned it, and neither had she. She had always cared for Anya, as Anya had for her; and it had naturally grown. Their relationship had progressed almost inevitably, and neither had made much effort to be anything more than what they were now, or question what they had.

Anya stared down in surprise at Lexa. Lexa was rarely so soft or endearing with her, not that she was cold or aloof per se, but their relationship functioned on careful affection and sexual desire. And there was no one that Anya trusted more than Lexa. And if she was being honest, she knew that the only person who Lexa might trust as much as her was Gustus.

She let her hands rest lightly on Lexa’s head, and the deep ache that had settled in her chest lessened a little. “Y-you know that I…” she swallowed harshly. She slipped her hands into Lexa’s hair, kneading lightly at her scalp. “You know that I care about you, that you are my constant.”

Lexa opened her eyes and smiled, tightening her arms around Anya. “And you are mine. You have always been there, Anya. From the first day I was brought to Polis as a young child. You were never not by my side.” She pulled back slightly, resting her chin on Anya’s belly, “I would not have survived so long had it not been for you.” She licked her lips, her head feeling slightly woozy. “I would not have survived what happened…” her voice trailed off, but she forced herself to stare up at Anya. She didn’t need to say the rest, Anya knew.

“But I worry,” Lexa whispered. “Maybe you need more.” She pulled back, letting her hands fall down the back of Anya’s legs. And she felt a flicker of hope, when Anya shuffled forward, pressing into the space between her knees.

“Maybe you need more.”

Lexa flinched at the thought. She wanted to be enough for Anya, wanted Anya to be enough for her. She shook her head.

“Wasn’t it Costia who said that love never divides. The more you love, the more love you have to give.”

Lexa bit her lip, anxiety settling deeply in her chest. They were treading on dangerous ground, both of them skirting around this... _thing._ And she worried it had to do with the girl who’d fallen from the stars.

She had never thought she could desire something other than what Anya could give, not after the gaping hole Costia’s death had left inside her heart. And yet since Clarke had barged in on their lives, shattering the careful equilibrium they had constructed over the years, she found herself yearning to love that way again. And perhaps Anya felt it too, if the way she had been acting was any indication. But what if they couldn’t find that in one another? Lexa felt fear settle in her chest - it weighed her heart down to the point she thought it would stop beating. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shake the feeling off and her mind roamed inevitably to the one that had sparked this chain reaction. Warm hope blossomed in her heart, like a newborn star and it refused to be dislodged. Perhaps Clarke’s presence had finally prompted them both to face things they had avoided for too long. Perhaps the skai girl offered a solution - to what exactly Lexa wasn’t sure.

She reached up, letting her hands clasp Anya’s waist. She was exhausted just attempting to talk about this. Her thumb pressed against Anya’s belly, and she wrinkled her nose in confusion when she heard the crinkle.

“What is that?”

“Oh. It was part of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Anya reached into her shirt, glad for the distraction, and pulled out the folded parchments and handed them to Lexa.

Lexa stared curiously up at Anya and then shrugged and took the parchments. But the moment she opened them, she felt a chill settle in her bones. The sketches were clearly from the Mountain. And she growled, the parchments shaking when she recognized the faces of Anya and Tris, and she felt her eyes burn when she saw the sketches of hanging bodies, naked and abused, their life slowly being bled away. She wanted to rage and scream, wanted to tear something apart, and when the first tears splashed onto the parchments, she set them carefully on the table.

“Clarke.” Lexa didn’t need to say anymore. The sketches said it all.

Anya sat down heavily in the chair, leaning her elbows on her thighs, head bent. “She has nightmares too. She doesn’t know I have these. At least I don’t think she does.”

“We need to destroy the Mountain, Lexa. We need to wipe their sins from our land.” Her voice was cold, deadly, and Lexa shivered slightly, not used to hearing her General speak in a voice void of all emotion.

She grasped Anya’s hands. “We will. I swear it to you Anya kom Trikru. The Mountain will fall. We will lay waste to it and burn it to ash. They will be nothing left more than a stain, a memory.”

Lexa stood, pulling Anya up with her. “You need to sleep. Come.”

* * *

 

Lexa gently guided Anya back into their room. She pulled at the laces of her leather jerkin, carefully pulling it over Anya’s head. She unwrapped her bindings, letting her fingers linger over the soft skin of Anya’s breasts. Her fingers traced the swirling inked dips and curves of the tattoo that flowed across her  shoulders. She leaned in and kissed the tiny leaves that grew out of the knotted tree that swirled down one shoulder.

She pushed Anya back on the bed, and as soon as Anya was sitting, she slipped to her knees. She looked up at Anya, arching an eyebrow when she heard her lover hum at her. “Don’t get too excited, I’m just taking off your boots.” She chuckled at Anya’s pout. It only took a few minutes to unwrap the leather ties that secured the boots in place. She set them aside, before sliding her hands up Anya’s pants. She rubbed at her upper thighs, massaging the taut muscles.

She let her fingers scrape against Anya’s growing bulge, gently caressing it, before palming it and squeezing lightly. She batted away Anya’s hands when she tried to press Lexa’s hand more firmly against her bulge. She leaned down, pressing her lips against the crotch of Anya’s pants. She nibbled along Anya’s growing length, smiling when Anya lifted her hips slightly. She gripped her hips tightly, pressing Anya back down into the bed.

She pulled back, smirking at Anya’s husky whimper. She stood up and quickly peeled off her shirt, pulling at her bindings and dropping them in a heap. She toed off her boots, tripping a little, and only Anya’s strong hands around her hips steadied her. She rolled her eyes at Anya’s chuckle and leaned down, pushing against Anya’s shoulders. Once Anya had fallen back on the bed, she unlaced Anya’s pants, pulling them down her long legs. She pulled Anya’s soft shorts off too, tossing them to land somewhere on the floor.

She started at the bottom, kissing Anya’s ankles, swirling her tongue around the ankle bone, and Anya jerked in her grasp. She looked up and smiled reassuringly at Anya who peered down at her, her brow furrowed.

“It’s ok, just lay back and let me take care of you.” She was relieved when Anya simply did as she requested and didn’t question the tender care Lexa was going to lavish upon her. She kissed her way up long legs, letting her fingertips map out the terrain first. She placed hungry, open-mouthed kisses on the insides of Anya’s thighs. Licking and sucking at the supple skin. She left little lilac blossoms on Anya’s golden skin, reminding Anya that she was Lexa’s.

She dragged her lips across strong hip bones, and she slid her hands under Anya’s bottom, cupping and massaging the strong muscles. She licked and sucked the divots of her hips, tracing the line of muscle that cut down her pelvis. She nipped at it with her teeth, tugging lightly at the muscle, but she ignored where Anya wanted her most.

She smiled against the glistening skin of Anya’s belly, when her lover huffed at her. She pulled herself up onto the bed, dropping little kisses along Anya’s arms. “Do you want something?”

Anya groaned at the playful look in Lexa’s eyes. “Please, Lexa. I want your mouth.”

Lexa smiled at her and pushed at her hips, and once Anya had pulled herself further back onto the bed, Lexa lay down next to her on her side. She leaned over Anya, letting her fingers play in the slightest trace of sweat gathering on Anya’s muscles. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered. She pressed her lips gently against Anya’s hot cheek, knowing she’d embarrassed her lover.

“It’s true. You are so very beautiful and strong.” She splayed her hand across Anya’s belly, and then brought her hand up to cup Anya's breast. She played with the nipple that hardened under her careful ministrations. She ignored the way Anya shifted both in arousal and embarrassment, and it occurred to her that she couldn’t remember if she’d ever told Anya she was beautiful.

She pressed her lips against Anya’s cheekbone, peppering it lightly with kisses. “I love your cheekbones, and the way your nose dips,” she kissed her way over to Anya’s nose rubbing her own against it. “And I love how your eyes always betray what you really feel,” she chuckled warmly when Anya huffed and rolled her eyes.

“You’ve seen the worst of me, and I hope the best of me. I would rather you see more of the best of me,” she confessed as she leaned down, taking Anya’s nipple in her mouth and gently rolling it with her tongue. She let her hand slide down Anya’s belly, scratching at the twitching muscles lightly, until her fingers hit the tip of Anya’s cock, and the older woman mewled.

Anya twisted her body just enough so she could wrap both arms around Lexa’s back. She buried her face in Lexa’s neck, inhaling the slightly musky and woodsy scent. She blushed at the words Lexa whispered across her skin, at the way her lover soothed each twitch of her muscles. She wanted to say something, tell Lexa how she felt, but she fumbled and stuttered, and then Lexa kissed her, whispering it was ok, and she nodded, relaxing in Lexa’s arms.

Lexa slid her hand down to cup Anya’s member, she wrapped her long fingers around it, squeezing it gently, then a little more firmly. She smiled when it twitched in her hand, and she pumped the hardening shaft in her hand slowly, twisting at the top of the head. She smiled at the way Anya groaned, and she shimmied down, kissing her way across Anya’s breasts. She sucked and nibbled on Anya’s nipples, moving from one breast to another, still slowly pumping Anya’s shaft.

She straightened and swung her leg over Anya’s hips and leaned down bracing herself on her hands. She rubbed her lips against Anya’s, kissing and licking at the older woman’s mouth, teasing her gently until Anya reached up and grabbed her head, pulling her down into a heated, sloppy kiss.

Lexa could feel herself dripping, her clit hard and aching. Being so close to Anya, hearing her little whimpers never failed to spark her arousal. She curled one hand under Anya’s neck and pulled gently. “Sit up. I want to sit in your lap.”

Anya groaned and shifted her hips, quickly pushing herself into a sitting position. Her cock was hard and hot, and she could feel her pre-cum dripping onto her stomach. She wrapped her hands around Lexa’s hips to help steady her. She rubbed her face across Lexa’s breasts, before licking and nibbling around the curves. She sucked one nipple in her mouth, flicking it with her tongue, until it plumped deliciously against it. She dropped one hand down Lexa’s belly, palming the barest hint of a swell. She slid her fingers down until her fingertips hit Lexa’s slippery clit.

She groaned against Lexa’s breast, her cock starting to ache with pressure. “You’re so wet,” she whispered, half in awe. And she wanted nothing more than to sink inside of her wet, clinging heat. She whimpered a little, when she felt Lexa wrap her hand around her cock and give it a lazy pump, letting her thumb caress the tip.

“You do that to me,” Lexa husked as she gently played with the divot at the top of Anya’s cock. She loved the feel of Anya’s strong body shuddering against her, and she pressed herself tightly against Anya. “I’m going to do all the work.”

She managed to line Anya’s cock up to her slick heat within a couple of tries, and she let herself slowly sink onto the head. The slight burn from the stretch quickly disappeared, and she lifted her hips just enough to drag her entrance across the tip of Anya’s cock.

Anya groaned, unable to even speak. She buried her face in Lexa’s warm neck, and wrapped her arms around Lexa’s waist. She wanted to push up with her hips, but she forced herself to stay seated, to let her head rest on Lexa’s shoulders. She nuzzled her face more firmly into Lexa’s neck, licking and kissing the warm skin there.

Lexa wrapped her arms around Anya’s shoulders, content that her lover was resting her body against her own. It wasn’t often that Anya allowed herself to relax in such a way, to follow instead of leading. Lexa shifted and sank down slowly on Anya’s cock, then pushed up with her legs. She repeated the motion, letting herself sink down onto Anya’s hard shaft, and then pull up, until she was taking more of her in each time. And then when she had another two inches or so left, she let herself sink down fully.

She felt Anya bottom out in her, and it ripped strangled moans from them both. Lexa tightened her arms around Anya’s shoulders, holding her close, as she kissed her face. She wriggled her hips, pushing down harder on Anya’s cock, and then she started to grind slowly, undulating her hips just enough for Anya’s cock to drag against her front wall.

Anya’s body shook as she tried to keep from cumming immediately. She was proud of her stamina. She was able to last for a long time before cumming, and she had learned to pull out when necessary. But she felt herself unraveling quickly with Lexa’s arms wrapped around her, whispering soft words in her ears. She could feel the heat coiling in her belly and building at the base of her spine.

“F-fuck, Lexa. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” she mumbled against Lexa’s moist skin as her hands grasped at Lexa’s waist. She wanted to cry every time she felt Lexa’s silky heat slide up her cock, only for Lexa to deliberately clench around the tip of it. And every time Lexa drove her hips back down Anya’s cock, she thought she would choke and cum. She could feel her balls tighten and the pressure build at the base of her shaft.

“Lex-Lexa, I’m going to cum,” she tightened her hands around Lexa’s waist, desperately wanting nothing more than to pound inside of her and cum deep inside of her womb. But it was a risk they couldn’t afford.

Lexa pulled Anya’s head up so she could kiss her. She pushed her tongue into Anya’s mouth, flicking it against the roof of her mouth, sucking on Anya’s tongue. She dominated the kiss, pulling Anya’s head back, while she pumped Anya’s cock in her tight sheath.

“Hold on just a little longer, Hodnes, ok?” She ground her hips down hard on Anya’s cock and jerked her pelvis forward, groaning loudly when her clit scraped against Anya’s abs. She did it again, feeling herself tighten around Anya’s throbbing member. She rotated her hips, eyes closed tightly until she saw stars and the heat in her belly flushed across her pelvis, and she choked out a guttural cry as she clenched around Anya’s cock, dragging her pulsing clit against her abs.

She pressed her mouth to Anya’s, swallowing her lover’s whimpers while she tried to keep herself from cumming. She slowed the movements of her hips, riding out the last wisps of orgasm. Her legs shook, and she carefully lifted herself off of Anya. Anya’s cock was coated in her cum, and she immediately wrapped her fingers around the base of Anya’s cock and squeezed to keep her from cumming.

Anya fell back on the bed with a muffled groan and thump. Lexa had effectively staved off her orgasm, and she didn’t know whether or not to curse her or thank her. Her skin itched with heat, and the pressure was becoming unbearable. “I need to cum,” she pleaded as she fisted her hands in the furs, raising her hips in a silent plea.

“Shusha, you can in a minute, hold on.” Lexa put her hand on Anya’s hip, pressing down until she was flat on the bed again. She reached between Anya’s legs finding her balls. She rolled them gently in her fingers, and she was rewarded with a deep groan ripped from Anya’s chest. She leaned down and took Anya in her mouth, curling her tongue around Anya’s weeping tip. She hummed at the taste of her lover’s pre-cum mixed with her own cum. She sucked lightly on the tip before opening her mouth a little more and sinking down onto her hard cock. She pulled back up, before licking and nibbling her way down Anya’s cock.

She still kept her fingers wrapped tightly around the base of Anya’s shaft, and she kissed her balls, fondling them with her tongue. She closed her mouth around one, rolling it carefully with her tongue, applying just the smallest hint of pressure before releasing it. She finally took pity on Anya as incoherent please tumbled from the other woman’s lips.

She wrapped both hands around the base of Anya’s cock, and took the head back in her mouth. She sealed her lips around the head and began to suck while Anya writhed on the bed, scratching at the furs, and jerking her hips. She released her pressure at the base of Anya’s cock, and gently pumped the length of her cock, twisting her fingers in alternate directions. She felt Anya spasm hard, and she slid her tongue over head of Anya’s cock, and she was rewarded with the first stream of cum splashing into her mouth.

She continued to gently pump Anya’s cock and suck on the tip, swallowing all of her release. It was salty and warm with just the hint of tang, and Lexa swallowed quickly trying to keep up as Anya pumped her hips faltering every few seconds. When the last weak spurts had hit her tongue, Lexa released Anya’s cock with a wet popping sound. She flicked her tongue over the divot in the head, and Anya whined and jerked.

“Too much,” Anya muttered hoarsely, completed exhausted. She was still panting, gasping even. The heat was still burning through her blood, and her muscles felt heavy, and her head was woozy. She’d cum so hard she’d seen stars, and she felt slightly disoriented, and her cock was too sensitive for Lexa’s mouth.

Lexa grabbed the furs and pulled them up over their waists to their shoulders. She wrapped her arms around Anya, tucking her into her body. She ran her hands up and down her back, soothing her until Anya’s breathing steadied. She pressed her lips to Anya’s forehead, breathing the musk and sweat of their lovemaking. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax and enjoy the sweet lethargy coursing through her muscles.

* * *

 

“What are we going to do about Clarke?” Anya shifted closer to Lexa, enjoying the sticky warmth between them.

“Train her. She needs to learn how to survive here on earth. She is ill-equipped for long-term survival. I assume the rest of her people are the same, judging from what we’ve learned of the others who first came down. What do they call themselves?”

“Delinquents,” muttered Anya, yawning quietly. “They were all criminals. But most of their crimes were small. Insignificant.” She shrugged. “Apparently, even the smallest crime was punished by death.”

Lexa nodded. “It is logical. Clarke said they had very few resources.”

Anya grunted, rubbing her legs together. She was exhausted, sated, her sexual needs having been met at Lexa’s strong and tender hands. But something else was itching at her, scratching underneath the surface, and she grunted again. She closed her eyes, and she felt as if she was tumbling, as if the tent was shrinking around her, trapping her. Her eyes flew open, and she let out a strangled whimper. She hated these lucid type dreams. They frightened her in ways that nothing else ever did, the feeling of tumbling and falling forever, only for the world to suddenly close in abruptly and smother her.

“Do you like Clarke?” Lexa’s voice was small, slightly unsteady, and she couldn’t help but hold her breath.

Anya shifted closer to Lexa, her arms coming up between them, her wrists crossed, her hands flat against her own chest. She breathed shallowly through her nose, trying to count in her mind, but Lexa’s question caused her to stumble, and she shook her head slightly, trying to clear it, trying to focus.

“She is more than what she seems,” she finally choked out. She didn’t want to think about Clarke. She didn’t want to worry about her. She simply wanted to be able to breathe without suffocating, wanted to burrow into Lexa.

Lexa nodded. She wrapped her arms more tightly around Anya. Something was clearly wrong, and she could feel the slightest tremble in the other woman. Her breathing was erratic and shallow. Lexa rubbed her hands across Anya’s back, tucking ler lover’s face into her neck. But within moments, she felt Anya scrunch down slightly, felt her hot breath hit her naked chest. She felt Anya nuzzle her face into her chest, but it was different. It was in the slight pucker of her lips against the top of Lexa’s breast, in the way Anya curled into herself, the way her legs jerked in frustration under the furs.

She remembered it for what it was, and she wasn’t surprised. It had only ever happened twice before. The first being only a few short months after they had begun sleeping together. Anya had taken a patrol to aid a small village that had sent for help. They were under attack from the Ripas, and seven children had been carried off. Anya had managed to save three of them, but the others had disappeared into the Mountain. It was unusual for the ripas to take children, as they normally they targeted adults. Anya had blamed herself, and her rage had known little bounds. She had exhausted herself in the training pits, challenging each and every warrior there that day. Eventually Lexa’d had to put an end to it. And later that night, after Anya had been sewn and bandaged back together, she’d crowded into Lexa, searching for something that neither of them ever spoke of.

The second time had been when Tris had died. Anya had returned to Polis to deliver her report on the arrival of the invaders, the delinquents. And she had mourned Tris, devastated at the loss of the girl. And once again when night had blanketed them, and hidden their secrets, Anya had folded into herself, craving comfort that she didn’t know how to express. And the next morning, Anya had hurried away, the red of shame burning at her cheeks.

She carded her fingers through Anya’s hair, trying to quell her own nerves. She pushed herself up slightly on the bed, cupping Anya’s face with her other hand. She ignored the way her lover stiffened. “It’s ok,” she murmured, and she pressed forward, guiding Anya’s mouth to her nipple, and she winced when Anya latched on eagerly. It was the first time, she’d initiated this act. And it felt strange to her, but she relaxed as she felt Anya pull at her breast, and Anya’s legs finally stopped their anxious movements under the furs.

She didn’t know what it was about the act of suckling that comforted Anya. It had surprised her, and she wasn’t sure if it was typical. Her only other lover had been Costia, and she had shown no interest in suckling beyond for sexual purposes, and that rarely lasted long before Costia moved along.

There was nothing sexual about it. She didn’t roll Lexa’s nipple in her mouth, kiss it, or nip at it. It wasn’t meant to excite her and it didn’t excite her. But there was something rhythmic in the way she suckled, and Lexa wondered if it felt the same was as it would if it were a child she held at her breast, and not Anya. She immediately pushed the thought away. Some things only lived in the realm of impossibility, and she didn’t want to imagine a child that had her eyes and Anya’s cheekbones. Or perhaps a child with blonde hair. She shoved that thought away violently, and instead dropped her head down to kiss the top of Anya’s head, carding soft touches through her lover’s tresses. She knew it would likely go on for a long time, until Anya finally fell asleep, so she simply held Anya close to her breast, and she let her eyes close, as she breathed deeply, letting sleep slowly claim her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some angst, some honeycomb, some voyeurism, some one gets lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to reiterate: Clexayna is end game, but the journey to how each character gets there is different. 
> 
> Also, Kendrene wrote the majority of this chapter, and she did an amazing job, so make sure you tell her in the comments. Btw...who is loving the original characters: Thany, Callum, and Linnea? I adore them! Thany and Linnea are Kendrene's, and they freaking rock!!

By the time Clarke finally managed to staunch the children’s endless flow of questions and walk back into the main part of camp, the sun was finally setting. Its waning light turned the sky into a riot of scarlets and deeper reds, edged by the dark blue of approaching night. 

As soon as she stepped among the tents, Thany and Callum appeared on either side of her, the woman walking so close that Clarke could lean against her side discreetly. She glanced up to meet her guard’s gaze with a grateful smile. 

“Am I walking funny?” 

“A bit.” Thany replied noncommittally, and Callum guffawed hoarsely, “That’s an understatement.” His voice dripped with amusement.

Before Clarke could say anything, Thany lashed out, reaching around the blonde’s back, a fist smacking into Callum’s shoulder. Hard. 

“Ow!” The youth glared and clapped a hand over his aching arm, “will you quit it with the hitting?”   

Thany grinned, eyes brightened by mischief. “Only when you’ll quit being a rude idiot.” 

The man gave an offended sniff that Thany promptly ignored, turning her attention back to Clarke. She bent down slightly to whisper in her ear. 

“I have an ointment if it hurts too much.” 

“Thank you.” 

Thany simply nodded and they walked on in silence, letting the sounds of the camp envelop them. Suddenly Clarke frowned, noting they were not going back to the healer’s tent. She looked this way and that, but in the failing light the orderly rows of tent had begun to look the same.  

“The healer said there is no need for you to sleep next to his tent anymore,” Thany answered her unspoken question, “so Heda assigned you better quarters.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “that way we can protect you better.” Callum muttered something about Azgeda under his breath and Clarke noticed the two warriors appeared to be more tense despite their banter than when she had left them for her lesson in the morning. She wondered what may have happened while she was gone. Something about this clan seemed to set the young man’s temper off, and Clarke remembered the name he had mentioned in the morning. Costia. She hadn’t forgotten, not really, simply filed her curiosity away for another time, but Callum’s tirade sparked her interest anew and she resolved to ask someone about it. Perhaps she could talk to Anya on the way to her people’s camp.

Clarke’s new sleeping quarters turned out to be a larger tent, a few meters away from Lexa’s own. The rest of Clarke’s guards were sitting outside, pressing close to a bonfire to ward off the evening’s chill. The smell of cooking food reached Clarke’s nose and she quickened her step, the muscles in her back and thighs screaming in protest.    

Thany gave her a knowing look, but Clarke didn’t care, hunger urgently gnawing at her gut. Another whiff of the cooking smells tickled her nose and she felt drool collect inside her mouth. 

Her warriors spotted them approach and widened their circle, making room for them. It was weird to think of them as hers, but Clarke could tell they really were by the proud way they watched her hobble forward even if she was in obvious pain, and the welcoming smiles they offered as she let herself drop gracelessly on one of the wooden logs they were using as benches. She groaned almost bolting up right away, at the telltale sting on her butt. She would have to take Thany up on the offer of ointment after all, or be most likely faced with sores in the morning. 

She found herself squished between Thany and Kamila the only other Trikru with blonde hair she had seen so far and sighed with contentment at finally being still after such a long day.

“I remember when I learned to ride,” Kamila offered softly in commiseration, “I couldn’t walk properly for a week. It gets better though.” she added, when Clarke failed to hide a crestfallen look   

An older warrior, who had been stirring the contents of a pot placed near the fire, began to pass full bowls and spoons around. Clarke grabbed hers eagerly, pausing to admire the bowl’s craftsmanship despite the rumbling noises that came from her middle. 

When she dug in, the stew so hot it burned her lips, she let out a surprised gasp. The brown sauce managed to be tangy and sweet at the same time, the meat so tender it practically melted on her tongue.  Still, after a few spoonfuls her head began to feel heavy as if someone had stuffed it with wool, and her eyes fluttered shut of their own accord. 

The blonde was vaguely aware of a steadying hand on her shoulder and a voice calling her name. She opened her eyes with effort to meet Thany’s concerned gaze.

“Perhaps you should rest,” the warrior suggested in a whisper, so as not to draw too much attention to Clarke’s exhausted state. 

“Perhaps I should.” Clarke stood with a small wince, handing the bowl of barely touched food to Callum who was sitting across the fire. The man had noticed she wasn’t eating and had been eyeing it with yearning. He gave her a big, toothy smile before greedily shoveling a mouthful of stew into his mouth and she couldn’t suppress a smile of her own as she said her goodbyes and turned to hobble to her tent’s entrance.

Thany followed her discreetly, reaching out to touch her forearm before Clarke could duck inside. 

“Here,” she held out a jar as big as Clarke’s two fists combined, “for the soreness.” She waved off Clarke’s thanks with a small shrug and a wink, “apply it for a few days, until you get used to the saddle. The pain won’t go away completely, but it will prevent sores.” 

They said their goodnights and Thany left her to rejoin the circle of warriors at the fire. 

Once alone, Clarke took some time to look around the tent. Tiredness was pulling at her limbs like a sack of stones, but she doubted she could settle down to sleep immediately. Someone had lit a small oil lamp for her and in the light it provided she saw enough to pick out details.

There was a camp bed on one side, wider and more comfortable-looking than the pallet she had been sleeping in so far. The pelts draped over it were different too, much heavier than the ones Nyko had given her. She was sure they would ward off the night’s chill quite nicely. The chest at the foot of the bed, held fresh clothes, in the same color patterns of the ones she had seen on Trikru’s warriors, and over them someone had carefully folded a leather coat. Clarke couldn’t help but lift it out of the chest to examine it. 

It would reach her mid thigh when worn, the black leather not as heavy as she had first thought. There were metal inserts on the shoulders and she noticed that all the stitching was picked out in blue. She put it back with a smile, sure she recognized Lexa’s thoughtful hand behind the choice of clothes. The Commander seemed to have thawed towards her in the days she had spent drawing them the maps, and Clarke had begun to think that perhaps at some point they could be friends, if someone as important as Heda had time for that.  The woman was a mystery, cold and aloof, and yet there was a softness about her. And almost wistfulness in some of her expressions, and gentle earnestness in her hands when she touched Clarke. But too often, just when Clarke thought she was getting a glimpse of Lexa, Heda would rise to take her place.  She felt a pang of sadness at the knowledge that she would probably never be more than another emissary to the Commander, and she envied Anya, the only one perhaps that knew Lexa beyond mere bonds of duty. 

Clarke stifled a yawn and sighed, deciding it was probably better to try and rest than wish on impossible things. She shucked off her boots, shrugging out of her shirt and pants, then hurriedly pulled back the furs to crawl underneath with a shiver. 

A bundle she had not noticed fell to the tent’s floor and she picked it up, undoing the strings holding it close. 

She let the cloth fall into her lap with a soft gasp, when she realized she was holding a sheathed sword. The scabbard was grey leather, matching the strips wound around the sword’s hilt. Clarke carefully bared an inch or so of steel, then pulled out the whole blade, shivering at the promises the metal seemed to whisper against the sheath. 

The blade was straight and double edged and, judging by the length, clearly meant to be worn on one’s back. Clarke turned the hilt in her hand slowly, admiring the way light danced along the sharp steel. She could see the small waves where the metal had been hammered, then folded, then hammered again by a blacksmith’s tool and thought that, if the clothes clearly came from Lexa, the sword must be from Anya. They must mean to train her, and it made sense, as they probably counted that she would fight at their side when it was time to take the Mountain. 

Her hold on the sword’s hilt tightened resolutely. She had every intention  of bringing the Mountain to its knees. The blade would weep red by the time they were done destroying the Mountains’ wickedness for good. 

She put the blade away with another shiver, anticipation mixing with fear, and burrowed under the furs. They were softer than she had imagined and warmer too. The lamp she left lit, taking comfort in the soft light that suffused the tent. She didn’t think the small flame could hold her nightmares at bay, but she welcomed any help.  

Clarke twitched around the bed, kicking her legs and turning on her side, trying to find a position that wouldn’t hurt her back too much. Yet everything was sore and, after a few minutes of quiet struggle she gave up with an annoyed huff. 

She grabbed one of the pelts and rolled it up, snuggling into it. It smelled of something familiar that she couldn’t quite place. It reminded her of the woods she had been in with Anya, leather and sunlight. She rubbed her cheek against the pelt, inhaling deeply and the lingering scent of smoke and pine seemed to envelop her. Suddenly Clarke was crying into the fur, small sobs that she tried to suppress by pressing her mouth into the bundle she was hugging. 

She felt alone. 

In the beginning she had been too terrified and caught up in surviving their escape from Mount Weather, and then the matter of negotiating a chance for her people had taken up her mind. But as the days went by, she had become keenly aware of a shroud of isolation coiled tightly around her heart. There was a gulf between her and the other grounders and even though the Rite had helped in that regard, causing some of them to treat her with respect to the point she thought Thany and Callum could become her friends, she still felt a distance between them and it wasn’t closing fast enough. 

She ached for some form of human contact, and missed the other Delinquents and the knowledge that back in their camp she could just walk up to the central bonfire at any hour and find someone to talk to that would understand her fears. How could she tell these people that the openness of the sky above her head made her feel untethered? It filled her with the impression that she could suddenly lift off and fall into the blackness of the night. 

How could she talk about the way the wind was like a living thing against her skin, or admit she had not slept well on her first week on Earth because of the way it moaned among the trees?

What had transpired with Anya earlier that day had been a welcome reprieve, and for a moment Clarke wished to be in the woman’s company. She had shared with Anya enough horrors that she thought the other warrior would listen without judgment. 

Clarke grunted and threw the furs away with a snarl. She had no right to wish for Anya’s arms holding her close, no right for wanting the warrior’s firm body pressing against hers in sleep. No right. 

Her cheeks burned and she scrambled up and off the bed, beginning to pace the length of her tent. She stalked to her chest and grabbed clean clothes, deciding that perhaps a walk would help her to settle down. 

As she approached the table, with the intention of extinguishing the lamp, her eyes fell on a small tray someone had left for her. It held a number of glazed bowls filled with nuts and dried meat, small snacks in case she should be hungry during the day. What had caught her attention was a small plate piled high with pieces of honeycomb and she felt a smile tug at her lips as she remembered her reaction when Lexa had first offered her some. Clarke had read about honey on the Ark, but no amount of words could have prepared her for the taste. She was sure she had let out some undignified moans, because the Commander had not been able to meet her eyes for a while after their snack.

Knowing exactly where to go in her night excursion, Clarke grabbed a few pieces of the honeycomb, wrapping them in a piece of cloth she put in the small pouch hanging from her belt, before blowing the lamp out. 

She retrieved  her boots by the scarce light of the moon and, after a moment’s consideration, put on the coat she had found in the chest. It fit her perfectly and she wondered how it was possible, since nobody had taken her measures. 

When she peeked outside the camp had fallen quiet, the hour later than she had thought. Clarke felt like she had been tossing around in bed only for a short while, but more time must have passed while she was trapped inside the endless hallways of her mind. The fire around which she had sat with her warriors was burning low now, and only a lone figure remained, doubtlessly on guard duty.

The blonde hid behind the tent’s flap until she was sure the guard was looking in another direction then snuck out, keeping to the shadows that crowded at the edges of the fire’s trembling light. She knew it would have been wiser to ask the man to go with her, and if it had been Callum or Thany on guard she would have, but she was unfamiliar with this one and didn’t know how to ask without appearing intimidated, or like a petulant child too afraid of the dark to walk in it alone.

She had not forgotten the feeling of Quint’s fingers closing around her throat even though the bruises had faded to a pale yellow, so she pulled the coat’s hood up to hide her pale hair as she walked down the path that led to the horses enclosures, and she was glad she had taken the jacket when the wind picked up and buffeted her frame. 

Temperature had plummeted with the sun, and Clarke thought perhaps the season was changing. She would never had thought it could happen so quickly, but then again radiation had changed many things. 

She quickened her step, seeing the ponies’ pen come into view. 

Most of the animals were asleep, heads hanging low towards the ground, or resting on another pony’s rump, but the grey she had ridden during her lesson was still grazing near the fence and he lifted his head  when she approached. 

“Hey.” 

Clarke reached through her fence to scratch between the pony’s ears, then took a piece of honeycomb from the bundle she had brought and offered it to the animal.

He sniffed at the food dubiously and snorted, peeling his lips back. The pony tossed his head and shook his mane, then with one last snort he trotted off to the other side of the paddock. 

“Uff.” Clarke clicked her tongue in annoyance and pulled her hand back. Perhaps the pony hadn’t forgiven the fact she had almost thrown up on him. 

She was about to pocket the honeycomb when a huff coming from the war horses’ enclosure drew her attention. The red she had been so awed by that day was looking right at her, and scratching at the ground with a hoof as if calling her over. 

“Do you want some?” She walked to the nearby pen with her hand extended, but once she was standing next to the horse, she hesitated. He was huge, practically towering over her and Clarke remembered Anya’s words about him biting. She gulped down hard. He did have wicked teeth. 

The horse nudged his nose against her head and Clarke yelped in surprise, then laughed when he just bent his head  a bit to tap her cheek.

“OK, ok I get it.” She hoisted herself onto the fence and offered him the piece of honeycomb. He crunched on it eagerly then snorted and licked her hand, wickering softly.

Clarke fished out more honeycomb and it was gone as fast as she had it in hand until there was no more for her to give him.

“I will be back tomorrow.” The red horse bent his head as if nodding and allowed her to brush her fingers through his mane. It was softer than she had expected and she wished she had enough courage to hop over the fence and run her hand along his powerful sides. 

The red suddenly jerked back and sprinted towards the other horses, kicking his hind legs as high as she was tall. Clarke shivered, thinking of what could have happened if she had given into her desires.

Still she watched on enraptured as he pranced around, the combination of danger and grace tugging at the strings of her heart. He looked like wind made flesh, or an ocean wave crashing into shore and Clarke ached to befriend him and harness his strength. She would bring more honeycomb, and perhaps one day he’d let her ride him.

The horse settled and Clarke turned away to walk back to her tent, suddenly realizing how cold she was despite her clothes. 

She took the long way back, to make sure the guards posted at regular intervals along the tent lines wouldn’t stop and question her, and thus she approached her own tent from the back, carefully slipping next to the Commander’s to reach the entrance. 

A low moan coming from Lexa’s tent halted her in her tracks. Clarke missed a step and stumbled, almost catching her ankle on a picket line before she regained her balance. The moan came again, louder this time and she recognized Anya’s voice, deep and guttural with need. 

She thought she heard words gently whispered and the rustling of a pelt and felt herself burn and ache with longing at the same time. She knew she should walk on, pretend she had heard nothing and just slip beneath her own furs, but the sounds of Lexa’s and Anya’s lovemaking rooted her to the spot. 

Clarke shifted her weight from foot to foot, torn between shame and the warmth she felt gathering in her lower belly. 

She rested her hand on one of the poles bracketing the entrance of her tent, dropping her head and looking at the ground. She licked her lips nervously, hoping that if anyone saw her they would just assume she was looking for something or maybe she was even sick. She shivered when she heard another husky moan, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was Lexa or Anya. She closed her eyes, and she imagined it was Anya making those noises, and she was the one drawing each sigh and moan from the tall general. 

She bit her lip, as she imagined what her skin might feel like, if she had the same scars as the grounder she’d killed when she’d escaped after Tris’ death. She pushed thoughts of the grounder and the girl away, instead imagining kissing each scar, letting her tongue trail along Anya’s ribs. She could feel the heat climbing up her neck and into her cheeks, could feel the sticky moisture gathering between her thighs. 

Heat curled in her belly, and she could feel her muscles tightening as the images in her head flickered and suddenly it wasn’t Anya she was touching, but Lexa. She was running her hands down those impossibly long legs, tracing the muscles that twitched under her eager fingers. And it was Lexa’s mouth pressing into her neck. 

She startled when she heard the loud groan, and her entire body burned when she realized the groan had been her own. She fumbled and sagged slightly against the long pole, barely able to stand upright. Her head was cloudy, and she was panting. She could feel her clit twitching, and she was slightly horrified to realize that she had slipped her own hand down her pants, and her fingertips were pressing against her clit. 

She withdrew her hand hastily as she looked around, her eyes wide, panic seizing her chest. She relaxed only slightly when she realized that no one was around and had seen her touching herself while deliberately eavesdropping on the commander and her lover. Shame burned her cheeks, and guilt nipped at her heels as she turned and disappeared into her tent. 

The hot rivulets of tears did nothing to ease the burn in her cheeks, and she fell across her cot, cursing herself for invading their privacy, for imagining herself with the them.  _ Them _ . She curled into a ball. And she couldn’t help but palm herself, feeling the damp heat trapped in her pants. She groaned again. 

_ Them.  _

It wasn’t just Anya or just Lexa. It was both of them. She closed her eyes, imagining four hands sliding across her skin, two sets of lips, devouring her breathy cries. 

She was so fucked. 

****************************** 

“Well, looks like I came around at just the right time.” 

A shadow had fallen across the tent’s threshold, blotting out the scarce light of the half-moon for an instant. 

Clarke pushed up on her elbows, turning sharply towards the interloper with heated words on her lips. She faltered when she recognized Linnea.  Moonlight danced along the woman’s profile and Clarke saw the flash of white teeth in the darkness. 

“I saw the way you looked at Heda’s tent, girl,” Linnea spoke quietly, confirming the fluttering fear that had begun to beat its wings inside Clarke’s chest. The General sighed and ducked inside, studying her for a moment before perching on the edge of the bed, inches from where Clarke was lying. 

Instinctively Clarke shied away, curling into an even tighter ball. She expected scorn or even disgust from the other woman, but as Linnea looked down at her there was a sad cast to her half-glimpsed features.

“You really want Anya for yourself skai girl.” The General stared at Clarke, noting the way the girl’s gaze shifted from hers, breath hitching in her throat, “or is it both of them?” 

She wasn’t surprised when Clarke flinched. She had thought as much.

Linnea felt her smile waver and lose its cutting edge as she realized the girl’s cheeks shone faintly in the low light, wet with tears. She clenched her hands, fisting a handful of furs, suddenly angry. 

She hadn’t noticed it as she stood at the entrance, but now she could clearly see the way the skai girl hugged herself as if cold. And yet it wasn’t the chill the air carried that caused Clarke discomfort, but a rawness that stretched every muscle in her body taut with unspoken pain. Linnea could feel stark loneliness ooze out of the girl in rivers, and its bitterness made her teeth ache. The general’s gut churned with anger as memories of their encounter in the afternoon flashed through her mind. She had been bold, brash even as she always was when chasing someone, yet Anya had acted as if the girl belonged to her already! And now, having heard the noises coming from Heda’s tent, and seen the state the girl was in, Linnea couldn’t help but want to punch some sense into the other general so that she would open her eyes and see how badly the girl pined after her, and Heda as well, if she was not mistaken.

She hoped Anya acted out of ignorance and hadn’t willfully led Clarke on. Linnea herself was infamous for breaking hearts and yet never promised more than what she could give. 

She reached out hesitantly, then let her hand fall back on her lap, not knowing if her touch would be a welcome one, and instead stood and went to the small table where she had spotted an unlit oil lamp. She brought its small flame back to life with practiced motions, then turned back to face Clarke. 

The blonde had pushed herself up to a sitting position and was studying her intently, her words making the air between them heavy with the weight of truth. 

Clarke watched Linnea carefully, the soft light coming from the lamp gentling the General’s hard features. The woman’s eyes looked almost black now, their depths swirling with a storm of different emotions, anger and sadness clashing with want. Clarke had feared she would find pity, but of that there was no trace, much to her relief. 

Still she found she had trouble holding Linnea’s knowing gaze for too long, the general’s words having cut too close to home for comfort. 

The general shifted, leaning her hip against the table, arms crossed beneath her breasts. 

“I am not them,  _ Klark, _ ” she shrugged and her grin returned but softer, almost wistful , much different than the sardonic sneer she’d worn when she had sauntered into Clarke’s tent, and her blue eyes were gentle, “but why should you be alone on such a cold night?” 

Clarke started, eyes widening at the not so subtle offer. Did the General really think that she was  _ that  _ easy? Anya’s words of warning echoed in her ears, and yet her bed felt as cold and lonely as the void of space.

“Anya warned me about you,” she snapped, irritated at herself for even considering it, “you just want a hole to fuck.”

She expected Linnea to protest innocence, but the General threw her head back and gave a throaty laugh.

“Guilty as charged,” she paused then added in a husky drawl that made Clarke’s spine tingle, “but is it such a bad thing?”  She winked at Clarke, charming innuendo falling from her lips, “But I also do it really well.” 

As if on cue the wind picked up, making the tent flaps billow and dragging the echo of another moan inside . The sound battered at Clarke’s walls and she felt her resolve crumble. She swallowed hard, voice breaking around the edges of each word.

“No,  not a bad thing, ” she exhaled and the aching emptiness inside her eased a little as she reached a decision. She knew it would be back with a vengeance in the morning, having no illusion that what Linnea was offering was nothing more than a moment of reprieve. And yet she was starved for any form of tenderness, and perhaps in the end she’d be too tired to dream of ghosts and wish for the impossible to happen. 

She lurched ungainly to her feet, unable to suppress a grunt of pain. The healing scars on her back pulled at her skin, and her inner thighs felt like doused with fire. 

“You’re hurt,” it wasn’t a question and Linnea grabbed the jar of ointment Clarke had not bothered to use before. She walked to Clarke and raised an eyebrow in silent question. 

Clarke sighed tiredly and gave a minute nod, just as the muscles in her legs began to quiver uncontrollably, threatening to spill her to the floor. Linnea’s arm went around her waist, gently guiding her back to the bed. 

The general helped her to sit down, then knelt in front of her to undo the laces of her boots and pull them off. Clarke was taken aback by the gesture and before she had time to think upon it, she reached out, brushing a strand of raven black hair from the woman’s brow. 

Linnea smiled and leaned into the touch a little, then her hands moved to Clarke’s shirt and the girl raised her arms over her head, allowing the woman to undress her. Soon enough she was laying on her belly completely naked and Linnea was kneeling on the empty spot next to her, fingers scooping a generous dose of ointment out of the jar. 

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I’ll kill you,” the general threatened, gently massaging the poultice into Clarke’s skin, “I have a reputation to uphold.” 

Clarke winced, more at the sting of the medicine on her reddened skin that at the threat. She’d clearly heard the amused note in the other woman’s voice. 

“What would that be?” she countered with a snort, “fuck and run?”

Linnea chuckled, carefully spreading the ointment across the fading welts on Clarke’s lower back. She had attended the Rite and that had been where Quint had struck. Her hand moved lower, following the gentle curve of Clarke’s ass and she swallowed harshly, feeling arousal pool between her legs. The girl was soft, softer than the ones she was used to having in her bed, and yet Linnea didn’t think that she was weak. Given time Clarke would be as hard as any of the warriors slumbering in the camp around them.  But still she marveled at the rich silk of the girl’s skin, unmarked by starvation and war. She wanted nothing more than to press her lips against the small of her back, taste the hint of salt on her skin. But she wasn’t willing to trespass when she hadn’t been invited. Yet. 

Clarke felt Linnea’s hands wander and couldn’t help but press her face into the bed and moan, hips jerking back to press her ass more firmly into the woman’s touch. The arousal in her belly had been dampened by despair but had not left her completely, and now it ignited anew roaring to a white-hot heat that threatened to melt her bones. 

She twisted around,  eyes raking over the general’s body. Linnea wore a tight sleeveless vest, and leather pants laced up the sides. She could see a hint of flesh at her hips, and she was suddenly curious about what the woman looked like without her clothing, if she was just as impressive, if she still would ooze confidence and sex if she didn’t have the dark leather to flaunt. 

She bit her lip, wondering if she dared to be so bold. It was clear what the other woman was offering, and it was free, no strings attached, and the spaces between her ribs felt cold and empty, and she desperately missed her people, her family: Wells and Octavia, Raven,  and even annoying Bellamy. And she just wanted to feel warm and safe again, and letting her nerves burn up under this woman’s hands was growing more and more appealing. Survive at all costs, had become her new mantra, but she wanted to live a little.  A small frown creased  Linnea’s brow even as her eyes reciprocated the gaze hotly. 

“Clarke?” The blonde saw her wet her lips, body trembling slightly with the need to close the distance. 

“Please.” Clarke hated the tears that welled into her eyes, turning the woman hovering above her to a hazy shadow. She opened her arms and a sob ripped from her chest as she felt Linnea slowly ease down onto her, hands going to her hips to pull them flush together. 

Clarke welcomed the weight pressing her into the bed and the tender nuzzling along her neck and when she turned her head to meet Linnea’s lips in a heated kiss, the regions of her heart that Anya and Lexa had unknowingly taken as their own quieted, and she felt whole again at least for a short while.

She lost herself in the feel of the strong, lean body that carefully pressed her into the cot and the hot kisses scattered across her glistening flesh. And when Linnea parted her flesh and gave her what she craved, she was able to forget about Anya and Lexa and  wishes that inhabited a realm of impossibility for a moment. 

*****************

Clarke blinked awake, a feather-like touch caressing her cheek.Scattered memories of the night before clicked back together and she raised her gaze, to find Linnea staring down at her with a lazy smile. 

“Hey.” 

The woman pressed a kiss to Clarke’s forehead and her smile widened as the blonde burrowed into her neck with a sigh. Clarke blushed, realizing she had been using the General’s shoulder for a pillow with an arm draped over Linnea’s stomach. The warrior’s arm encircled her shoulders, hand flat on her back to hold her close. 

“I…” Clarke wet her lips, fumbling her words, “I think I needed that. Thank you.” 

Linnea brushed a hand through her hair one last time, before disentangling herself gently. “Don’t mention it. It was good fun,” she winked, the light of mischief entering her eyes, “we should do it again sometime, Skai girl.” 

They shared a rueful laugh, then the General put on her clothes. 

“I’d rather stay in bed with you,” she said as a farewell, “but duty waits on no woman.” 

Clarke groaned, remembering her own obligations. She was probably already running late and Anya would be in a huff. At the thought of the other warrior, familiar butterflies hatched inside her gut. 

Linnea blew her a playful kiss then walked to the tent’s entrance, halting with a foot already out and looking back at her. 

“I almost forgot, “ she fished a small bundle out of her coat’s pocket and placed it on the table, “I had come to give you this last night.” She bowed, one hand on her sword hilt and she looked for a moment like a perfect picture of formality. “A gift from my clan to you, Ambassador. We carve a living out of making paper, and having seen the maps you drew, I thought you’d like to draw something prettier once in awhile.” 

One last smile and she was gone, leaving Clarke to clamber out of the warm furs, driven by curiosity. She dressed as she went to the table, tugging at the cloth that hid her gift with eager fingers. 

It was a sketchbook, the cover of a blue that matched her eyes with a scattering of stars impressed on the leather. Her breath caught as she traced the design, recognizing the Polaris constellation. A smaller bundle held a number of charcoals and as she headed out, Clarke decided to take the gift along. 

Perhaps she could draw something other than death for a change.  She was convinced now more than ever, that Earth had more to offer her people than a strange, fruitless death.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's see...stuff happens! Onward to Camp Jaha!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer than normal chapter. Enjoy!

The pale sun was well on its way to its zenith as Clarke ducked out of the tent, hurriedly tugging on her jacket. Roiling clouds painted a line of ink on the horizon and the air held a whiff of something she could only describe as expectation. Clarke wondered if she would finally see snow and couldn’t suppress an excited smile. She wanted to see what that really looked like even though it may make travelling to her people’s camp more difficult. 

She was relieved to see familiar faces on guard duty, yet a pinch of unease at the idea people may have seen Linnea come out of her tent, caused her to drag her feet. It would have been obvious to any onlooker that the General had spent the night there, and Clarke wondered if word would get around. 

She imagined what would happen if Anya or even Lexa got wind of it: did Heda share the same opinion of the Smoky Mountain warrior that Anya had? Clarke’s mind conjured up their faces, full of judgement and disappointment and she grimaced. The invisible hand of panic squeezed her throat when a different kind of thought followed - that what had happened the night before may change what view they had of her and erase any chance of…of...  _ Of what exactly _ ? 

She grimaced and shook her head, suddenly a little less worried and more irritated. What did it matter? Neither of Anya or Lexa were free. She had no claim on them and they had none on her. And if they dared judge her for trying to find some relief with someone else...she didn't finish the thought though. Her righteous indignation felt strangely hollow. She sighed heavily, pushing thoughts of all three of them from her mind. She needed to focus on her training and  get ready to leave to see her people .

She shook her head again angrily, fighting off these thoughts and Callum, who had raised a hand to wave in welcome let it drop, confusion digging deep furrows onto his brow.   

He simply fell in step a few paces behind her when it was clear she was going somewhere with a purpose, and didn’t try to strike up  conversation obviously catching on her sour mood. 

Clarke hoped that the walk to the horses’ enclosures would help her clear her mind, but her thoughts always circled back to what she’d heard the night before and what it’d caused inside her. She could go on denying what she felt, since ignoring it didn’t seem to work. Linnea’s touch, her fingers slowly sinking inside Clarke’s heat, had warmed the yawning spaces inside her a little, but the feeling hadn’t lingered for as long and she had hoped. Clarke’s heart felt like an abandoned house, past echoes and sighing ghosts trapped within its beating walls. 

“Klark, hod op!” 

She turned to see Lexa hurrying towards her, and suddenly all she could do was stay upright as nausea clawed at her stomach, making it ache. 

“I want to go over the supplies we’ll be sending to your people together,” Lexa explained, coming to a halt in front of her and waving Callum away, “you know best what they may need in the coming months.” Clarke’s bodyguard bowed deeply and scurried back the way they had come without a backwards glance, probably relieved to be out of her foul mood’s reach. She missed his presence immediately, afraid that her heart would slip the leash of self-control she already gripped white-knuckled, her hold slackening with every passing breath. 

“Is Anya unwell?” Clarke asked as the Commander started forward, leading the way to a part of the encampment the blonde was not familiar with, “she was supposed to give me another riding lesson.”

“She is sleeping.” 

There was something softer than usual in Lexa’s eyes, that somewhat blunted her usual piercing stare. The orbs’ vibrant green seemed a paler shade because of it, not muted but mellowed out, and it reminded Clarke of the first time she and the other Delinquents had chanced upon an open meadow and laid in the grass to stare up at the clouds travelling high above their heads. 

A different image of the green-eyed woman, one which had etched itself into Clarke’s breastbone the night before, superimposed over the one in front of her for a moment and Clarke swallowed harshly. She was aware that the illusion was a product of a half-heard sound and her own fantasies and that standing in front of her now there was only Heda. She’d have to be careful and not confuse the two. 

Clarke’s toe caught onto a stone and she stumbled, tearing her eyes away for a moment. When she looked back the mirage was gone, save for the faint shadow of a blush on the Commander’s cheeks. 

The crack in Lexa’s facade had lasted only for a heartbeat, and when the woman reached out to steady her, Clarke saw the familiar mask of Heda fit over her features. The blonde realized that what she’d glimpsed beneath the coolness was a flicker of happiness, as Lexa thought of Anya when prompted by her question, and she could not fault the brunette for it. 

She simply wished that the envious beating of her own heart against her ribs didn’t ring so hollow. 

***************************** 

The TonDC storage area turned out to be a long hall in the heart of the village. It was built from massive tree trunks and its windows looked more like arrow slits, similar to those Clarke had seen while browsing the Ark’s comprehensive digital library. A palisade encircled the whole structure and she had the impression that the place had been designed to offer a line of last defence in case of battle. 

Lexa confirmed her thoughts as they walked by the guards stationed at the palisade’s gate. “Tondisi is an important town and many trading routes cross here, so we keep more supplies than usual in storage to sell to the other clans that come to our markets.” The Commander pointed to the furthest corner of the building, “we also have a few empty rooms where the elders and children can seek refuge in case of attack.” 

Clarke shuddered, the whiffs of smoke coming from the camps’ fires suddenly burning acrid up her nose. She remembered the moment she’d stepped out of the drop ship, right after the battle, the ground so carpeted by the smoldering remains of the dead it was impossible not to tread on them. 

She’d had tasted enough battle to last her a lifetime, yet saw nothing but war looming on the horizon.

Lexa watched a number of emotions chase each other across Clarke’s face as she explained the building’s purpose. Wonder at the size of the storage area was quickly pushed off by guilt and a faraway look dimmed the vivid blue of the girl’s eyes. The Commander had an inkling that Clarke was thinking of the battle at the Delinquents’ camp and while she found her empathy for the grounders admirable, Lexa didn’t want the blonde’s mind to be bogged down by guilt. Her debt was fully paid and thus should be forgotten. She wanted to tell her so, yet was afraid it would come off as a lecture. 

Clarke reminded her of her first days as Heda in many ways, tentative and always second-guessing her own choices. Lexa had spent many sleepless nights wondering how she had come to be a leader when she thought dozens of people were better suited to the task. 

She recalled the fear and isolation of that time clearly, along with Anya’s steady presence by her side. She hoped that Clarke would have someone among her people that could support her the same way and help her become the leader that Lexa had glimpsed so many times amid the blonde’s rawness in the past few days. Another thought took assertive root into her mind, and for a moment she saw her own hand and Anya’s guiding the Skayon on her path. Lexa pushed that image away roughly, but her mind refused to bend to her will, and it lingered in the background, like an unreachable itch between her shoulder blades. 

“Come,” she touched Clarke’s forearm gently to gain her attention, “let’s make a list so that my men can load the pack horses.” Perhaps being caught up in preparing the delegation’s trip to Skaikru would ease the hold the blonde seemed to have on Lexa’s thoughts.

The wraiths that had slithered under Clarke’s skin dissolved when Lexa lightly touched her arm to get her moving. Still she could not help but imagine them writhing along her veins to take residence inside her, and she felt darkness pressed around her heart and wondered how long it would take for her ghosts to finally devour her heart. Clarke also wondered how many more would swell the ranks that haunted her before they tore the Mountain down for good.

She struggled to not let anguish surface to her face and was glad that Lexa didn’t linger, simply removing her hand and motioning for Clarke to follow her inside. 

She clasped a hand over her forearm to rub a tingle out of the spot that Lexa’s fingers had touched only moments before, and cursed her own body for betraying her. How could a woman she barely knew have such an effect on her? Clarke understood her attraction to Anya, but what pulled her towards Lexa was a mystery. Still she had no energy left to deny she felt something for them both, whatever it was, the images her mind had taunted her with the night before burning too brightly to be snuffed out.

Voices calling out in greeting brought her back to her surroundings and Clarke saw several townspeople approach, bowing with warm smiles at the sight of their Heda. A tall man stepped out of the group and bowed to her as well, saying something in the grounder’s tongue Clarke didn’t manage to translate. 

“This is Sevin,” Lexa supplied, noting her difficulty, “he and his people manage Tondisi’s supplies.”

“An honor, Ambassador,” the man said, switching to english. His accent was thick, as if he wasn’t used to speak it often, but understandable. He towered over Clarke and she had to crane her head back to meet his eyes. She half expected to see the barely contained sufferance she read in a lot of the grounders when they looked at her, having thought his words just something empty to appease Lexa, but she was met by respect and careful consideration.

“The honor is mine.” She replied just as formally.

He seemed satisfied and turned his attention back to his Heda. “I have set aside a number of items the Skaikru will need to withstand the Winter’s Breath. If you would follow me, I will show you?” 

He grabbed a lit lamp from one of his assistants and led the way deeper into the building, Lexa and Clarke trailing at his heels. The blonde look around curiously, amazed at the neatness of it all. They passed rows of wood, some of it cut into logs ready to be burned, while other piles held planks, or whole trunks for building. 

There were tools and weapons and every now and then they came upon groups of workers, transporting this or that out of the hall. When they moved into an area where pelts and clothes were stockpiled, Clarke fingered the sleeve of her own jacket, realizing she hadn’t yet thanked Lexa for the thoughtful gift.

Clarke turned to Lexa, her face burning slightly with shame, but she hesitated when she saw Sevin out of the corner of her eye. He was rummaging through furs, examining each one carefully before setting some of them aside. This certainly wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have in front of him, but she wasn’t sure when she would get a better chance to speak with Lexa before more assistants came to help them pack the items. 

“Heda, I wanted to…” 

Lexa shook her head slightly, and turned her attention to Sevin. “Sevin, are these all the items?” 

Sevin nodded as he gestured towards the table burdened with a wealth of furs and food and tools. “Sha, Heda. I hadn’t quite finished sorting the furs, but the food and tools are here, once you have examined the items and given your approval, I will send a couple of my assistants to wrap everything and put it on the pack horses.”

Lexa nodded again, then gestured behind her. “Mochof, Sevin, we will finish choosing the items, and I will call for you when we are ready.” Once he had departed, Lexa walked over to the furs, picking up a few and examining them to make sure there weren’t any holes in them. 

“You may call me Lexa when we are alone, or when it is just Anya with us,” she murmured as she dropped the fur back into the pile. She let her fingers trail along the many items on the table: skinning knives, hatchets, axes, needles, leather laces, and leather ropes. There were pouches of herbs for medicine, carefully packaged dried meats and fruit, and even a couple of wheels of cheese wrapped in hemp sacks. 

“It’s so much, Lexa. I don’t know how to thank you,” she reached out and laid her hand carefully on Lexa’s arm, not sure the other woman would welcome the touch, but when Lexa didn’t pull away, Clarke squeezed gently. 

Lexa nodded, swallowing a little harder than normal, and she was confounded by the traces of heat she could feel spreading up her neck. She turned away, coughing slightly, blowing out air in an attempt to regain control of the red in her cheeks. “It isn’t enough to see you through Winter’s Breath. This is more of a gift to show your people that we want an alliance, that we have the means to help them. The Mountain isn’t going to wait much longer.”

Clarke nodded. “It is still more than I expected. I will do everything possible to make this alliance work. My people will see reason, will realize that an alliance is for the best.” Her voice ended in a hushed whisper, and she realized that her last words were more hopeful than factual. 

Lexa studied Clarke carefully, noting the way the girl suddenly wouldn’t look her in the eye. “Your leader, your Chancellor?” When Clarke nodded, she continued, “he is reasonable?”

Clarke hesitated too long and Lexa’s eyes narrowed, “Clarke, will they listen to you?”

Clarke lifted her chin and looked Lexa straight in the eye, putting as much weight into each word as possible. “I will make them listen. I will make them see reason. We just want a chance to survive, to live, to give our children something better. My mother will listen.” 

Lexa nodded, “you have mentioned your mother before. She sits on your council? And your father? He also sits on your council?”

Clarke sucked in a sharp breath from the familiar stab of pain in her chest, and she reminded herself to breathe through it as her eyes automatically closed in an attempt to hold back the tears. Tears were of no use now, and she grimaced, licking her lips before opening her eyes, only to meet worried green eyes. She glanced down, surprised to realize that Lexa had reached out as if to steady her, and she was suddenly very aware of the warmth of Lexa’s hands cupping her elbows. 

“Clarke?”

“I-I, I’m sorry, Lexa.” She swallowed hard, breathing through her nose, “My father is not on the council. He was floated.” Her voice caught on the last word, and she had a brief thought that she was falling, tumbling through space, and her skin grew clammy, and she felt her stomach roil. She bit her tongue sharply in an effort to stave off the nausea, but it was the sudden, firm press of Lexa’s fingers on her elbows, the small step Lexa took to draw herself closer to Clarke that rooted her to the ground; and she was no longer falling. 

“I am sorry, Clarke.” Lexa’s breath whispered across Clarke’s cheek, and she squeezed her elbows gently, suddenly overtaken with the desire to pull Clarke firmly into her body, to erase the sharp, twisted grief that had flared in her eyes. 

She remembered Clarke had spoken of floating before, that it was the most efficient way to kill. It was reasonably quick, but it was filled with those seconds of absolute terror, as people were physically torn from those they loved and hurled into an endless void. Lexa could not fathom floating for eternity, never finding a place for her spirit to rest. The thought was anathema to all that her people believed, and she shuddered at the thought of losing Costia in such a way. At least, Lexa had been able to burn Costia’s body eventually, had been able to lay her to rest, and ensure her soul reunited with the trees around them. She knew Costia lived in the trees, in the new leaves that sprang forth every new Awakening, lived in the babbling of the brooks on Trikru land. 

“I once lost someone I loved. Her name was Costia.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling Clarke this, wasn’t sure what it meant that the twisting ache in her belly demanded it of her. 

Clarke shifted slightly, her hands coming up to carefully clasp Lexa’s arms. Perhaps it was awkward standing there, their arms entwined just enough for them to ground each other, but not enough to push against the boundaries of who they were. But she wanted Lexa to know that she was there, with Lexa, and no one else.

Clarke wanted the Commander to know she understood the terrifying hollowness that death could bring about. Her mother had told her that her pain would ease with time, and perhaps its edges had dulled some. Yet Clarke believed that everyone was born with lights inside their heart and a capacity to love to the extreme, but that as loved ones were torn out from chests and caring arms alike, loving became harder and the heart grew darker as each light slowly died. Death was a hole impossible to fill and whoever maintained different was lying.

“What happened?” She asked a slight tremor in her voice, aware that she might be trespassing where she wasn’t wanted.

“Because she was mine, the Azgeda Queen stole her from me, cut off her head, and delivered it to my bed.”

Clarke couldn’t hold back the gasp, her heart aching for the girl in front of her, the girl with soft green eyes that still bore the grief of losing her love. 

She decided to take a chance. “And how does Anya fit into the story?” 

Lexa looked down at Clarke, briefly mesmerized by the warmth in her eyes. She didn’t realize blue could be so warm. “You already know she was my Fos. It was her who removed…” she swallowed harshly, the old grief flaring like a healed but scarred bone in the rain. “It was she who heard my screams, removed Costia’s head from my bed. And it was she who spent every night for weeks on end in my bed, holding me while I screamed into a pillow.” 

Lexa pulled back, dropping her arms. She felt too exposed, as if she’d removed her armor when danger still dogged her heels. She cleared her throat, “Anya has always been my constant.” She turned back, grabbing the lamp, and the next words she uttered with her back to Clarke, unwilling to face her, and not sure why she couldn’t.

“You loved your father very much. He must have been a good man to be so deserving of  _ your _ love.”

Clarke stared at Lexa’s back, unsure what had just happened to cause Lexa to suddenly retreat, but she heard it, the slightest trace of longing in her words, and it caused her heart to beat faster. 

“I adored him. He was my rock, and they killed him to silence him. He wanted to tell the people that the Ark was dying, I agreed with him, and so they threw me into prison. It’s how I came to be on the dropship that was sent to Earth.” She hesitated, unsure of just how far she could push, but the words dropped from her lips before she could decide if it was the right thing to say,  “Costia must have been exceptional to deserve  _ your _ love,” Clarke licked her lips then added, “it seems to me that it isn’t an easy thing to gain from you.”

It was a long moment before Lexa turned back to Clarke, her face unreadable, partly hidden in the shadow of the lamp. But Clarke saw the glint of salt in her eyes, and she saw the tender smile that quirked the other girl’s lips, before it disappeared into the shadows. She’d known that Clarke had been a criminal, she’d heard the story of how the Ark had sent their children to die, but she hadn’t known what Clarke had done to deserve such a fate. It gave her far too much to contemplate.

***************************** 

They walked quietly back through the storage area, and Clarke stepped outside to the waiting pack horses, while Lexa directed Sevin to start packaging the items. “I am also gifting you the three packhorses you will take with you, and two more horses. I am also sending you three goats. Two of them will give you milk. I do not advise that you eat them.” She smiled, “at least not yet. They will serve you better if you drink their milk or make food from it.” 

Clarke flushed in embarrassment, “Um...yeah about that...We don’t know how to do that. I mean we’ve read books, but no one has ever milked...uh...anything.” She gestured helplessly, smiling crookedly at Lexa, and Lexa couldn’t help the tiny smile that slipped across her face again before she could stop it. 

“Anya will show you how to do it. She and the guards will stay with you  while your Council discusses the alliance , and help you hunt and show you how to prepare the hides and furs. There are a few bows and arrows and spears already on the pack horses.” 

Clarke nodded, overwhelmed by Lexa’s generosity. Her people didn’t deserve this, and she would make them see, make them understand that they were the invaders here, and they needed to learn to live peacefully with the grounders. 

“Let’s take a look at the animals the Horsemaster set aside for your people,” Lexa hadn’t missed the slight trembling of Clarke’s mouth as the girl fought with a feeling of overwhelming gratitude for a generosity she felt undeserved. The gifts were indeed generous, and the clans raided each other for much less, but Clarke’s people would repay the debt tenfold when they shed their blood in the coming war against Maunon. Of that Lexa said nothing, since Clarke had already shown she understood the sacrifices required by leadership. 

The Commander had hoped that mentioning the horses would distract the blonde from her dark thoughts and was gratified to see Clarke perk up at the suggestion. Lexa turned her face away for a moment, pretending to watch as Sevin’s men loaded a pack horse. She looked back to Clarke once she was sure the small smile had stopped tugging at her lips and Heda was fully on display once again.

As they walked towards the paddocks, Anya moved briskly to them and joined them, nodding to them both. 

“I overslept,” she growled in the usual harsh tones, yet managing to sound apologetic and sheepish at the same time. 

The look that passed between her and Lexa wasn’t lost on Clarke, nor the sudden rosy tinge of their cheeks. It was over in a flash, but it made her chest ache, her ribs contract around her heart in an unbearable vice and she walked a few steps ahead of them, hands thrust deep in her coat’s pockets while Heda and her General fell into talks of strategy and approach and which men should be sent to the Skaikru camp.

A lean man was waiting for them, lounging against one of the fences and he straightened as they approached, knuckling his forehead respectfully. 

“This is the skai girl, Heda?” he asked in a rasping hiss. Clarke noticed a thin scar on the front of his throat, as if someone had tried to slice it open. It was old and bleached by time, but that was probably why the man couldn’t talk in anything more than a wet growl.

“Sha Cedric, this is Klark kom Skaikru. Klark, this is the Horsemaster.” 

Cedric grunted, hard eyes raking Clarke’s body shamelessly. The blonde squirmed and shuffled under his probing stare with unease, and she would have blushed, except there was nothing sexual about the way he seemed to size her up.

“She is a strong one,” he sentenced finally, “wide hips are good for breeding and her breasts will feed many children.” Clarke gasped at that and blushed, sputtering in indignation. The Horsemaster ignored her reaction, looking at a point over her shoulder. At Anya, Clarke realized when she risked a quick glance to follow his. 

“Something to consider, General. Heda.” Clarke heard Anya groan and when she fully turned neither her nor Lexa were looking at the Horsemaster, or each other. Or her. 

Cedric chuckled and spit on the ground, but before he could open his mouth to continue; Anya interrupted him with a growl “Keep talking, Horsemaster, and I will finish the job the bandits  started with your neck.” 

He straightened, his light grey eyes glinting in the early sun. He nodded, but Clarke could see the smile lurking around his eyes, and she realized he and Anya had probably butted heads more than once. 

“As you wish, Niece.” He chuckled when Anya glared at him again. 

“The horses, Master Cedric if you will?” Lexa finally said, breaking the stalemate.  

He nodded and gestured towards the three pack horses. “These are all set, just waiting for the last of the goods.” He nodded towards Sevin’s assistants who had hurried over with their arms full of items,  “I’ve also selected a mare and stallion for the Skaikru. They are not warhorses, but they can pull a tiller and the mare will have foals when in season.”

He shambled off to help them load the horses and make sure the packs were distributed evenly so as not to cause the animals any harm. 

Anya simply glared after him before grunting and relaxing. He was her only surviving relative that she knew of, and he had come to Polis and then TonDC three years ago after leaving the Horse Clan. He was a wanderer, and she was surprised he had stayed so long in one place. 

She turned back to Clarke, unslinging the leather satchel she carried from her shoulder. She reached into her back, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a small clay pot and handing it to Clarke, “I thought you might like this, one of the handmaidens mentioned you had eaten it all.” 

Clarke couldn’t hide the look of surprise as she reached out and cautiously took the rough pot in her hands. It was fairly non-descript, with a muslin rag tying off the opening. She glanced up at Lexa who stood with her hands behind her back, but when the brunette nodded ever so slightly to her, she relaxed and smiled. Whatever the gift was, Lexa knew of it. 

She carefully untied the rag and laughed as she reached into the pot and pulled out a small piece of honeycomb, “Mochof, Anya!” She popped the piece into her mouth, humming in delight as the sweetness hit her tongue. She sucked the comb clean and then crunched on it, enjoying the waxy, slightly sweet texture. She popped her fingers into her mouth, sucking on them, eager to not miss a drop of her favorite food. 

The sun was peeking from behind the clouds, the first rays slipping across the paddock to spill onto her face and shoulders. And the only sounds were her humming and the small moans she made as she devoured the treat.  The blonde was too caught up in the stickiness of the honey coating her tongue to   see the way Anya shifted awkwardly, clutching her satchel in front of her, or the way Lexa’s cheeks turned a light pink,  pupils dilating to swallow the green of her eyes . 

So entranced were they by the sight of Clarke, that Cedric had to harumph at them twice before they realized he was standing there. 

“Yes, well as lovely as a sight that is,” he smirked, the growl more pronounced in his voice, “you should saddle up. I’ve got the grey pony again for the Skai girl, and your big black for you, General. Je’Saris, Callum, Thany, and Malcom are mounted and ready.”

Clarke opened her eyes when she heard Cedric, and she blushed at the realization that she had probably moaned out loud, that they had all heard her and seen her. She winced a little, but she turned and followed Cedric, approaching the young girl who held the rope to the grey pony. But just before she reached the pony, she heard a familiar whinny. 

Clarke immediately veered off to the main paddock, waving Cedric away when he growled at her. “It will only take a moment. Sorry!” 

She quickly pulled herself up onto the rails, pot still clutched in her hand. She threw both legs over, so she could sit more comfortably. She laughed as the big red pranced in front of her. “What do you want eh? Yeah, bet you smelled it, right?” 

Anya stared in shock before hurrying to Clarke, with Lexa right behind her. “Clarke! Get off the railing! He isn’t tame yet, he’s barely been trained.” She grabbed Clarke’s waist trying to tug her off, but froze when she heard the sharp whinny from the Red, who had immediately bared his teeth at Anya. He shuffled and huffed at her, stomping his hooves into the ground. 

“Anya, perhaps you should let her go.” Lexa never took her gaze from the red, but she found the small of Anya’s back with her hand and rubbed it lightly. She breathed carefully through her nose, not wanting to upset the agitated horse further, not with him so close to CLarke, but she could feel her heart galloping in her chest. The red had hurt more than one person before, and she shuddered at the thought of Clarke falling beneath his hooves, but it was obvious Anya’s presence was agitating. 

Anya swallowed hard, not wanting to let go of Clarke. She remembered the last man he’d maimed, and the long months it took before he walked again. 

“Anya, It’s ok.” Clarke patted Anya’s hands wrapped around her waist. “He isn’t going to hurt me. I’m pretty sure it’s you he’s pissed at.” She chuckled lightly, “After all you are trying to come between him and his honey.” 

“Honey?” Lexa dug her fingers into the small of Anya’s back, relieved when her general listened to her unspoken demand. Once Anya let go of Clarke, they both backed up a few steps and moved to the side. It was unnerving to watch the big red move his body in front of Clarke, his gaze never wavering from Lexa’s own. 

“Sha. He likes the honeycomb.” She reached into the pot and pulled out a piece of honeycomb and offered it to him. “Come here, ya big dope. They don’t mean any harm.” She set the pot on the railing, and held out the honeycomb flat on her other hand. She smiled when he wickered at her, and she giggled at the feel of his soft, velvety lips tickling her palm. She scratched under his chin while he ate, and once he was done, she dropped a kiss on his nose. She pushed him away gently as he continued to butt her chest, his nose trying to search her pockets. “Nope. All gone. I’ll bring you more when I get back.” 

She laughed as he tossed his head at her, curling his lips before eyeing Lexa and Anya again, and then moving off into the paddock. She swung her legs back over the railing, slipping down to the ground. She winced slightly at the jarring in her sore muscles. She wiped her hands off on her pants before looking up to meet Lexa and Anya’s incredulous gazes. 

“What?” She shrugged and grabbed the pot of honey. “We both like honeycomb.” 

“B-but...he’s dangerous! He trampled someone a few months back!” 

“He’s never really let anyone touch him like that before.” 

Clarke turned to look back at the red. “So...does he belong to anyone?” 

Lexa shook her head. “No, not really. He was a gift from the chief of the Horse Clan to me. But no one has really successfully ridden him. The last person who was on top of his back was thrown and trampled.” 

Clarke nodded thoughtfully, “Could I trade for him?” 

Lexa cocked her head and stared thoughtfully at Clarke before slowly nodding, “You may have him, Clarke. He is my gift to you. I will help you train him when you return.” She ignored Anya’s squeak of protest. 

Clarke nodded, relieved. She didn’t really have anything of value to trade for him, but she vowed to find or make something that she could gift to Lexa to show her gratitude. “So I can name him then.” She looked down at her pot of honey and then back to the red. She smiled. “Honeycomb. His name is Honeycomb.” She turned and walked over to the grey, carefully putting the pot of honey in her saddlebags. 

“Honeycomb? Oh Gaia, she named a wild warhorse after something sweet,” Anya moaned pitifully under her breath to Lexa. 

Lexa grimaced. Honeycomb. She shook her head at Anya, “It’s her choice. And no, you aren’t going to suggest another name to her. It’s obvious she has settled on this one.” She grimaced again and sighed. She could only imagine what her warriors would think about the name. After all, the red had a fearsome reputation, and a blonde girl from the sky had just basically turned him into a puppy. She smiled at the thought. 

“I don’t think he is her’s, Anya, I think she is his.” 

Anya sighed, knowing the battle was lost before it was even fought. It wasn’t so bad, the horse obviously wanted to protect Clarke. That was a good thing. She would just avoid calling the horse by his name. She slung her satchel across her horse’s flanks, and checked her gear one last time while Lexa spoke with the guards accompanying them. 

************** 

“Hello, Clarke.” 

Clarke whirled around, her face lighting up when she saw Linnea. “Hello, Linnea, what brings you to the paddocks?” She glanced around, suddenly a little nervous as both Anya and Lexa were now looking at them. “Um...are you coming with us?” She couldn’t keep the trace of uneasiness from her voice, and she grimaced when  Linnea picked up on it. 

“No, don’t worry. I just came to see you off. I’m headed out later to do some trading with some of the smaller villages in the area.” She stepped closer to Clarke and reached out to rest her hand on Clarke’s hip, “Perhaps I will see you when I get back?”

Clarke could only nod mutely, suddenly struck dumb. She was all too aware of Lexa and Anya’s heavy gazes, Linnea’s breath brushing her cheek, Linnea’s hand burning a mark into her hip, the restless stomp of hooves in the dirt, and Cedric’s wet cackle. 

Linnea smiled, squeezing Clarke’s hip, letting her thumb sneak under Clarke’s shirt, to brush against soft skin. “Good.” She pulled away, letting her hand linger just a little longer than necessary. “Safe journey, Clarke.” 

She stepped back, nodding to Lexa and Anya, ignoring the heat of their gazes. “Heda. General.” And then she was gone, ambling off back towards the village, whistling as she went. 

Clarke moved leaning against the pony’s flank and busying herself with the saddlebags to hide her burning cheeks. She was not entirely displeased that Linnea had shown up to see her off, and the General’s bold demeanour was not unexpected. Still, the patch of skin on her hip that Linnea had discreetly touched burned like a firebrand and Clarke half expected she would find the woman had marked her as hers if she looked.  The thought of being marked made her uncomfortable, or perhaps it wasn't the mark itself, but who would leave a mark that left her uneasy. She glanced up at Anya and Lexa who were hovering near Anya's horse, before she blushed and dropped her gaze .

She shook her head ruefully and flipped the saddlebags open, noting that her clothes were neatly packed, as was Thany’s jar of ointment. The sword had been secured behind the pony’s saddle along with a blanket roll. 

“I will teach you not to poke yourself with that when we camp for the night,” Clarke jumped, dropping the saddle bag’s flap with an undignified squeal. Anya had walked up silently behind her, so close than when the blonde whirled around she almost crashed into her. The warrior’s eyes were hard and Clarke thought she saw a hint of annoyance dig lines on Anya’s forehead, but she had the distinct feeling it wasn’t directed at her. “Lexa didn’t give the sword to you so you could trip and fall on it.” Clarke opened her mouth to speak, but before she could Anya plucked at her sleeve, eyes softening. “The coat suits you. I am glad.” 

“You…” Clarke swallowed hard, “you had this made for me?” 

“Sha,” Anya gazed away and cleared her throat, “the blue matches that of your eyes.” Clarke felt her cheeks redden again, much harder this time, but before she could find a reply the General had stalked off, barking orders in the grounders’ tongue. 

The warriors part of the escort scrambled on the saddle and Clarke interpreted it as her cue to do the same. She swung a leg over the pony’s back and heaved herself onto the animal somewhat gracefully or so she hoped. 

Just like that they were off, Thany flanking her while Anya and Je’saris opened the small group with Callum and Malcom bringing up the rear. Lexa watched them file by, apparently stony, but she had a word for each of the guards passing her and when Clarke’s pony went by she walked along for a few steps. 

“Ste yuj, Klark kom Skaikru.” The Commander reached out to squeeze her knee briefly, then moved to the two warriors behind her. The blonde saw Anya twist on the saddle to see how she was faring and gave a slight nod. She shifted as soon as the General was done looking, her thighs still sore despite the new layer of ointment she had applied earlier, and blushed at Thany’s knowing look.

The hours passed by, mostly uneventfully. But they stopped every couple hours so everyone could get down and stretch, and check the loads on the packhorses. Although Clarke had the distinct feeling it was done more to give her the opportunity to try to stretch her aching muscles, rather than anyone else actually needing to dismount; not to mention, not once had any of the packs needed adjusting. She supposed she should tell Anya it was unnecessary, but the burning between her thighs made her swallow her pride, and accept the small breaks. 

The pony’s slow canter was oddly soothing, and she found herself lost in its hypnotizing rhythm, having to shake herself out of her daze more than once. Nobody talked, the warriors’ eyes carefully trained on their surroundings, and looking ahead Clarke, had the distinct feeling that something was bothering Anya. At first she thought they were being followed or something, but as she twisted awkwardly around in the saddle to look at the warriors trotting behind her, nothing seemed to be amiss. Their eyes were hard and restless, but they almost looked at ease, or at least as relaxed as a grounder could ever look. Callum gave her a reassuring grin and a small wave of his hand, and Clarke shifted to face forward again, eyes trained on the General’s back.

There was tension in the way Anya held herself on the saddle, her back ramrod straight, as insurmountable as a fortress’ wall. Clarke toyed with the idea of urging her pony forward and ask what was bothering the woman, then discarded it. If Anya wanted to talk about it, she eventually would. Maybe.

The blonde had the distinct feeling that Anya rarely opened up about what she felt, their talk near the brook an exception to the rule. A stray thought slithered across her mind, filling her with longing. She wished that more moments like that would occur between them, but the reality of things left her with a bitter taste on her tongue, and the familiar echoing emptiness in her heart. 

Anya cut her eyes to the left and right, watching the trees and forest carefully. Despite being in Trikru territory with the clans mostly at peace, vigilance was still required. It was what stood between them and a wild boar, or an enraged bear. She could hear Clarke shifting in her saddle, the leather saddle squeaking more than it should. She made a note to oil it later, soften the leather more. She knew part of it must be the fact that the girl was in pain, attempting to alleviate the burning ache by shifting too much. 

She let her mind stray to the girl, specifically to the morning. She’d overheard Callum tell Thany that Linnea had been near Clarke’s tent in the early morning. She hadn’t thought much of it, until she’d seen Linnea touch Clarke. She grit her teeth, anger sprouting in her chest. The way Linnea had touched her, letting her hand rest comfortably on the girl’s hip. The action had spoken of familiarity, of intimacy, and Anya suddenly couldn’t think of anything but the fact that Linnea had been seen outside her tent in the early morning. 

She shifted irritably in her saddle, her horse blowing out a huff of air at her sudden movement. She sighed and patted his neck, taking her frustration out in the saddle was both foolish and dangerous. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the way Linnea had slipped her thumb under the girl’s shirt, traced her soft skin. She ground her teeth at the flaring in her belly. She didn’t want to think about the bitter emotion souring her tongue, and she wanted nothing more than to rid her mind of the picture of Linnea and Clarke together.  

The sun climbed steadily overhead, then began its descent towards dusk and the shadows under the trees became darker and more numerous. Clarke had been lost in her thoughts for quite some time, only rousing herself when it was necessary to shift and relieve the soreness in her rump and thighs. She hadn’t paid much attention to the lay of the land around them, the woods too vast and similar for her limited sense of orientation to mark down particular spots.

And that was why she had to look twice to be sure, but the fir on their left, trunk split down the middle by a lightning bolt was unmistakable. They had buried Wells and the two that had died in the landing a few feet beyond that, in a shady place where the ground dipped gently and was made softer by a carpet of moss. 

Clarke knew what they would come upon next and instinctively sawed at the pony’s reins, so viciously that the beast turned his head and bared his teeth at her, hind legs kicking out. If not for Thany’s hand flashing out to grab her elbow, the blonde would have tumbled to the ground. 

“Klark?” 

The woman’s blue eyes brimmed with concern, and the blonde found she could not hold Thany’s softening gaze, or look at any of the others for that matter.   She felt dread pool in her belly, and she wondered if Anya realized how close they were to the Dropship, more importantly how close they were to the final resting place of 300 of her warriors. She scoffed to herself, of course Anya knew. This was Trikru land, and she knew every tree, every hollow, and every stone. Of course she knew her warriors were nothing more than ash now. And Clarke could do nothing but sit there, and wait for Anya to face her.

Anya brought her black horse around when she heard Clarke’s pony whinny in protest, turning just in time to see the animal buck and try to throw the girl off the saddle. Thany helped the girl stay in place, then said something quietly, too low for the General to hear, but Clarke would not look at the warrior, or any of the others.

Anya nudged her horse forward, coming abreast with Clarke’s mount and put a hand on the girl’s own, gently prying her fingers off the reins. She had been holding on so tight that Anya could see red welts forming on the soft skin of her palms. 

“Are you injured?” 

Clarke shook her head and Anya saw she was biting her lower lip and shivering slightly. She cast her eyes to the woods around them and frowned - the spot looked familiar, but in the lengthening shadows she wasn’t sure. At first she thought that something, an animal perhaps, had scared the girl, but the horses were perfectly calm and the woods quiet, save for the occasional bird.

“What is it?” She asked, trying not to sound irritated. They had been making good time despite the goats and the packhorses, and she wanted to press another mile or two before nightfall made it too dangerous to continue.

“The Dropship.” It was a hoarse whisper, barely audible beneath the sighing of the wind, but Anya heard regardless and felt her heart grow cold and heavy. 

Of course.

“Thany, Je’saris,” she began, snapping orders, “find us a place to camp and running water. Go east, the Skaikru landed in that direction,” it was lucky that the place they had to reach was in the opposite direction from the Dropship. 

“Callum, Malcom. Hunt us some food. I saw some tracks along the way.  I will stay with Clarke and the horses.” Her tone left no room for argument, although Je’saris did shoot her a curious look. Her oldest friend knew her all too well, and had naturally figured out there must be some other reason if they were stopping so soon. Still, she followed Thany without a words, and in a matter of minutes all the Grounders had vanished into the forest. 

Once they were alone, Anya dismounted then put her hands around Clarke’s waist and helped her off the pony. When the girl’s feet touched the ground she tottered slightly, bumping into Anya’s chest and the warrior’s arm went instinctively around her for a moment, holding her close before they both became aware of curves and hard muscles molding together and moved away with a blush.

“We can have some dried beef and bread while we wait for the others,” Anya suggested, turning away to rummage inside her saddlebags, “Callum and Malcom are good hunters. We’ll have plenty of fresh meat soon enough.”  

She turned back towards Clarke, holding out a muslin bundle containing the jerky and froze, eyes widening with shock. 

The girl was gone.

“Skrish.”

********************

Clarke had moved as soon as Anya’s back was turned, not really dwelling on her decision. These were places she had called home for weeks, and she could find her way around with ease, even though the last rays of the sun barely brushed against the treetops. She saw familiar oaks, so gnarled and bent by time that one wondered how they could stand upright upon seeing them, and big, jagged rocks on which her and the other Delinquents had climbed or sat as they explored the forest. 

Soon enough the forest changed around her, made uglier by the traces of the battle they had fought against Anyas’ people. The remains of their camp’s palisade came into view, and beyond loomed the shadowed husk of the dropship. There were burn marks on the ground and the trees that hadn’t gone up in flames were blackened hunks of charred wood, jutting like rotten, crooked teeth out of the forest’s floor. 

Clarke willed herself to walk closer, moving as quietly as she could. The place still reeked faintly of smoke and there was a desolate air about it, haunted and unwelcoming as if the horrors that had occurred there  had seeped into the very ground and taken root among the trees. 

The forest’s sounds too were muted and Clarke thought that animals had more sense than she and avoided this place of death and grief. 

Stepping inside the palisade was the hardest thing she had ever done, and once she did, she froze in place not quite knowing where to put her feet. It had rained some since the battle and the water had mercifully washed away most of the ashes, but what lay underneath was even worse. Clarke cursed her trained eyes for recognizing teeth, a ribcage cracked open by impossible heat and the remnants of a pelvic bone. Male and young, judging by the size. A veil of tears descended on her eyes, momentarily hiding the abattoir. 

This had been a mistake. She would turn bad and go to Anya and hope she wouldn’t be too mad. She would…

“Klark.”

The name tugged at strings hooked deep inside her and she turned to find the General standing a few feet away. Anya’s face was shadowed and Clarke could not read the woman expression. For a moment she was afraid that Anya would put her hands around her throat and finish what Quint had started days ago,

Anya watched fear fill the girl’s gaze as she approached, her body tense with the need to flee. Did the Skayon really think that Anya would hurt her? She forced herself to take slower step, hands relaxed at her sides and when she was just inches from Clarke she stopped, calling her name again as softly as she could. The blonde shivered.

“I…I’m sorry.” 

Anya shook her head wonderingly. There were tears on the girl’s face and she reached out to brush the wetness away with her thumb.

“Stop.” She winced at the roughness in her own voice, “stop torturing yourself like this.” 

“I… we…” Clarke flinched away from her touch, looking down at the ground between them and Anya put her fingers under the blonde’s chin, forcing her to meet her gaze.

“The debt is paid, Klark, “ she gestured to the clearing around them. It hurt, but war was never pretty. Never easy. “it is paid and we will not talk of this matter further. I will not let you dishonor your own sacrifice.”

“It doesn’t feel like it’s been paid,” muttered Clarke quietly. She pressed her fingertips to her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to center herself. Her back ached with sitting up straight for so many hours, despite the breaks they’d had. Her thighs burned, and her leg muscles were sure to give out any moment. 

“It’s been paid, Klark.” Anya let a thread of steel underline each world. “There is no point in dwelling on this. Once a debt is paid, we all move on.” She gestured to the Dropship again, “I know that many of your people lived to be quite old. It isn’t the same here. Life is harsh here. Sometimes the sun burns for so long that we forget the feel of rain on our skin, and sometimes our bones freeze and break, and we wonder if the sun will ever show her face again.” 

She put her hand on Clarke’s shoulder, cupping it firmly and squeezing, “The Ripas come and steal our mothers and fathers, our sisters, our children, and if they don’t steal those we love, then Winter’s Breath does.” She sighed, not sure the blonde was really understanding what she was saying. “Our life here is too short to dwell on that which we can’t change, or that which we’ve paid. You need to let all of this go.” She licked her lips, her own conversations with Lexa pricking at her conscience. “If you can’t let this go, then you are of no use to your people. You can’t help them if you refuse to leave the dead behind.” 

Clarke nodded, holding back the tears as much as she could. She reached up and grasped Anya’s hand, squeezing it gently and then just holding it to her shoulder. It grounded her, and she felt guilty for needing Anya in this moment, for wanting more from Anya. She drew in a shaky breath, nodding again, but the trees were distinctly blurry, and the salt stung her eyes. 

Anya stared in surprise at Clarke’s hand covering her own. It was warm, softer than Lexa’s, smaller than her own, but no less reassuring in its weight. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes glued to their hands, and when she shifted her hand just enough to smooth her thumb across Clarke’s fingers, she was no longer surprised. 

“You are forgiven, Clarke.” 

Clarke nodded weakly, reluctantly pulling her hand away. She dropped her gaze and fiddled with the hem of her shirt, suddenly a little more nervous than she had thought. She was well aware of Anya’s gaze. It was warm, but heavy, and she could feel it sinking into her flesh, fogging her mind. She took the small step forward to bring her into Anya’s space, and before she could change her mind, she wrapped her arms around Anya’s waist, pressing herself fully into the strong length of Anya’s body. She reached up, letting her lips scrape across Anya’s jaw. 

“Thank you.” And then she ducked her head and hurried off, before Anya had time to react. 

It took Anya a moment to gather her scattered thoughts. She hadn’t been expecting the hug. Hugs weren’t particularly common in her life, certainly not outside the privacy of her and Lexa’s tent. But her mouth was dry, and she felt unsettled by the warm press of Clarke’s body against her own, the strength in her thin arms around her waist, the gentle scrape of her lips across her chin. She sighed heavily. She would have to speak to Lexa again. They’d had numerous conversations about the girl already, but mostly in relation to the alliance, and they’d danced around what they felt, what they wanted, both refusing to be the first to speak the secret they both harbored. And after all, having more than one lover was not unheard of, the clans that lay further west were especially known for their plurality. 

She shook her head, sighing. She was getting too far ahead of herself. Who was to say Clarke would even want her and Lexa? Would Lexa want to share? Could she share Lexa with Clarke? But there was something there, something about Clarke that made her want more from her relationship with Lexa. She had always been satisfied with what she and Lexa had, and she still wanted Lexa, wanted her even more now, wanted her without limits, without the unspoken lines in the sand. 

***************

The sun had slowly withdrawn back into her cocoon, and shadows painted the trees, stretching far across the clearing under the guidance of the moon. It was mostly quiet as they sat around the fire Malcom had built. They’d eaten their fill of rabbit and the nutty bread that Anya had packed. They’d talked quietly about all that they would need to accomplish at Camp Jaha. 

Clarke had been surprised when she’d been told that one of the scouts had copied down the words on the sign hanging over the Skaikru camp thinking it might be important. Lexa had given her permission to question the scout, and she’d quickly learned that Chancellor Jaha did not appear to be among the remaining Skaikru. She and Lexa and Anya had talked long into the night debating what that might mean for Skaikru leadership and the tenuous alliance. But now she was tired, and her muscles ached, and she could barely sit still from the burning between her thighs. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bedroll and sleep, preferably on her stomach. 

The conversation had drifted off, and the night was quiet except for the occasional hooting of an owl, and the skittering of small creatures along the forest floor. The fire spit and hissed, and Anya finally stood to her feet indicating it was time for everyone but the first watch to rest. Callum banked the fire, and Thany and Malcolm took first watch with Callum and Je’Saris to take second watch. 

Anya indicated the tent she’d set up earlier. “Come, Clarke. I will show you the tent. You can sleep there.” 

Clarke stood slowly, wincing at the pulling in her back. She stumbled slightly, her cheeks flushing violently when Anya caught her around the waist. The general rolled her eyes in exaggerated exasperation and smirked at Clarke. “You walk much, Skai girl?” 

Clarke chuckled despite the heat flushing her body, and she stood carefully, but almost immediately hunched over in pain. “Ugh. Riding horses, is not all it’s cracked up to be.” She shook her head, and straightened carefully, wincing again. 

Anya snorted. “You will learn, Skai girl.” She shrugged, slowly releasing Clarke. “It takes time. You need to build up your muscles. Your core is weak, so you overuse the muscles in your legs and thighs to hold yourself upright.” 

“My core?” 

Anya cocked her head, biting her lip for a moment before reaching out the short distance between them and placing her hand flat on Clarke’s belly. “Here,” she husked, “This is part of your core. The stronger your core, the stronger your entire body will be.” 

Clarke blushed again, clearing her throat awkwardly before nodding, “Right. I should have known that.” They stared at each other a moment, Anya’s hand still pressed against Clarke’s belly. It felt warm, heavy, but not suffocating. It felt safe, exciting. And that worried Clarke. She nodded dumbly and stepped back hastily, wincing at the dull pain that flared in her backside. She sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Come, you should lie down. I will get the ointment for you.” Anya stepped back, her fingers gently scraping along Clarke’s belly, before she turned back to the banked fire, stepping around Je’Saris in her bedroll. She grabbed her saddlebags and bedroll motioning for Clarke to head to the tent only a few feet away. 

Once inside, Anya set her saddlebags down and bedroll just outside the tent, pleased to see that Clarke’s bedroll had been set up, and her saddle bags were at the head of the bedroll. There wasn’t much room to move in the tent, but it was enough. The leather of the tent had been waterproofed, and would also keep out most of the wind. 

Clarke carefully sat down and untied the laces on her boots. She pulled them off, sighing in relief as she wiggled her toes. She pulled off her socks, nose wrinkling at how dirty they were. Underneath the socks, she wore clean rags carefully wrapped around her feet. The leather boots were too big, and she’d had to improvise to make them fit better, not to mention find a way to deal with the blisters that had erupted those first few weeks. She had never walked any great distance, there was only so far one could walk on the Ark. 

Anya squatted down in front of Clarke, rummaging through her saddlebags, until she grabbed the jar of ointment. She pulled it out with a clean rag, and then sat back watching curiously as Clarke took off her socks and rags. “Is something wrong with your feet?” She gestured towards the rags.

“What? Oh no. The boots don’t fit, and well in the beginning, I ended up with a lot of blisters on my feet. We didn’t really walk a lot on the Ark,” she smiled ruefully. 

Anya picked up one of the boots, noting the old leather, worn soles. It wasn’t a good boot for walking or running. “Why are they too big? Why didn’t your people give you boots that fit.” 

Clarke’s fingers stilled on the rags she was refolding. She remembered when she’d outgrown her old boots, and when her father had taken her to the Commissary Exchange to trade them for a bigger pair that would fit. But none were available in her size, and so she’d made due with the pair that Jake had been able to get for her. He’d ripped one of his shirts into long strips, and wrapped her feet in them and then put socks over her feet, so the boots would fit better. She felt her eyes fill with tears, as she remembered protesting him giving up his softest shirt, and he’d scoffed at her.  _ “What this old thing, Clarke? It’s better used for rags.”  _ But they’d both known what it really meant. And she wasn’t sure how to explain all that to Anya. 

“Resources were limited on the Ark. Certain items were hard to make, like boots. So we traded them. When the didn’t fit anymore, you turned them in for a bigger size. There were none in my size on the last trade. My dad taught me how to wrap my feet.”

Anya nodded. Clarke rarely spoke of her father, but when she did, her voice was filled with a pained wistfulness. She decided now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. “Here is the ointment.” She handed it to Clarke and then stood up with her saddlebags and bedroll. “I will sleep outside your tent.” 

Clarke nodded, watching as Anya stepped out and fastened the leather flaps behind her. She sighed and stood, unbuckling her pants and dragging them off her legs. She decided to not bother with her shirt, she’d just sleep in it. She grabbed the ointment, scooping some out in her hand, and slowly rubbing it into the sore muscles in her thighs. Once she was finished with her thighs, she twisted as much as she could in an effort to work the ointment into her bottom and lower back. But each time she reached around, she felt the muscles in her back spasm, and soon she was bent over gasping for breath from the twitching pain settling deep in her back and bottom. 

“Fuck,” she hissed as she bent over, gripping her knees. She hadn’t had to do this before, as Linnea had helped her. She closed her eyes remember how good it had felt to have such strong, slicked hands massaging all of her weary muscles. Her eyes popped open as she remembered those same strong hands touching her in other places. She wondered if Anya’s hands would be just as strong.

“Clarke? Are you ok?” 

She chewed on her lower lip, debating the pros and cons, the danger she was apt to create for herself. “Um, yes. I’m fine.” Her voice shook with weariness, and her throat itched. She really just wanted to lay down and sleep. 

Anya debated whether or not she should enter the tent. She’d heard Clarke moving around, had heard the strain in her voice as she mumbled. She knew the girl was in pain, still healing from the whipping and Quint’s attack, not to mention the strain of riding for hours in a saddle. 

“I’m coming in.” She waited a moment for Clarke to protest, to tell her no, and when she was met only with silence, she nodded and unlaced the ties to the flaps and stepped inside. She was met with the sight of an exhausted blonde with wet eyes and apple blossoms in her cheeks. She could smell the pungent ointment, and judging from how Clarke was sitting on the bedroll, she was very uncomfortable. 

Anya squatted down in front of her, ignoring the pale legs in front of her. She took the jar of ointment from her. “What’s wrong?”

Clarke flushed and looked away. “I couldn’t twist around and rub it in…” She shrugged. 

Anya’s eyes widened when she realized what the problem was. She ignored the tiny spark in her belly and nodded. “I see. How did you manage it before?” 

Clarke stiffened slightly, staring at Anya out of the corner of her eye, surprised that the general didn’t already know. “Linnea,” she mumbled. 

Anya immediately grit her teeth. Of course. Linnea. She took a deep breath and let it out, cursing the other general in her head. “Do you need help?”

Clarke picked at the blanket underneath her. She was exhausted and embarrassed, and while she wanted to say no, knew she probably should say no, she also knew how much better she would feel if the ointment was rubbed into her back and buttocks. She blushed and nodded. 

Anya swallowed hard and nodded. “Why don’t you lay down on your stomach,” she flushed a little, her voice huskier than it should have been as she gestured to Clarke’s underwear, “do you want to take those off or um...should I just….?” 

Clarke nodded, “Why don’t you uh just slip them down and then um back up?” She cursed how easily her embarrassment stained her skin, and she could only imagine what she looked like now. She huffed a little and carefully maneuvered until she was on her belly. She pulled her shirt up, so Anya could also get the muscles in her back. 

“Your bindings…”

Oh right. Her bindings. She pulled herself to her hands in knees, freezing when she heard the grunt behind her before deciding to simply ignore it so as to not embarrass either of them any further. She reached under her shirt and unwrapped the long bindings, carefully setting them aside. At the last moment, she decided to simply take off her shirt, which she dropped on top of the bindings. She laid back down on the blanket, a little too aware that she was only in her underwear, in a small tent, with the object of her many conflicting emotions. 

Anya couldn’t help the grunt that was punched out of her chest when Clarke pulled herself to her hands and knees. She cursed under her breath, and for a fleeting moment she wondered what it would feel like to grasp Clarke by the hips, kiss along her delicate spine, and sink her cock inside her hot depths. She shook her head irritably, berating herself for such thoughts. By the time she’d gathered her wits about her again, she was presented with Clarke’s naked back. Even with the long welts crisscrossing her back, the girl’s flesh was still beautiful. 

She sighed as she eyed the healing welts. Whipping her was not something she’d enjoyed, and while she was happy to see that she was healing well, guilt lingered on her tongue. 

“I didn’t want to do that,” she whispered, sorrow coating each word.

“I know. But it had to be done. I don’t blame you for it. I got off easy. I know that, Anya.” Clarke was surprised by the regret that coated Anya’s words. Clarke had been more than deserving of her punishment, and it had opened the door to something more, given her people an opportunity that was unmatched. 

“I don’t regret it. You shouldn’t either.” She wiggled her shoulders a little, “You going to help me here, General?” She teased, suddenly more at ease now. She yawned and tucked her arms under her head. 

Anya smiled and nodded, despite Clarke not being able to see it. She scooted her way up to Clarke, and then slung one leg over the back of her thighs so she could straddle her. “Is this ok?” And when Clarke nodded, she settled her weight slightly, still bearing most of it on her own. 

She scooped up the ointment, rubbing it in her hands to warm it a little. Lexa had never been appreciative of cold ointment suddenly being smeared into her skin, and she doubted Clarke would either. She reached down and pressed her thumbs into the divots on either side of Clarke’s spinal column at the base of her lower back. She rubbed the ointment in, and slowly worked her way up Clarke’s back and then down again, being careful not to aggravate the healing welts. 

Once she had finished with Clarke’s back, she scooted down her legs, so she could reach better. She took a deep breath and gently eased Clarke’s underwear down her bottom, to just under her buttocks. She bit her lip, trying to center herself. She wasn’t a Seken anymore with wild desires. She was a Fos and General. She warmed more ointments in her palms, rubbing them together carefully, before gently resting her palms on Clarke’s bottom. She squeezed, and spread her cheeks slightly before blushing and quickly busying herself with rubbing the ointment into her firm flesh. She tried not to think of how round or firm her bottom was, how she would feel against her lips, and instead she thought about the battle field of blood and gore in an effort to regain her equilibrium. She hurried quickly, and once she was done, she hastily wiped her hands on the rag and pushed herself to her feet. 

“Thank you, Anya.” 

“Sha. Sha.” She muttered, as she cursed under her breath, as she quickly stuffed the jar back into her saddlebags. Her pants were tighter than they should have been, and it simply pissed her off that she hadn’t been able to control herself. 

*************** 

Clarke sat up with a sigh, pulling one of the blankets over her bare legs. She  had pulled her shirt back on, but left the binding off,  but now that the sun had settled it was quite cold, even inside the small tent. She watched Anya put the jar of ointment back inside her saddlebags, then the warrior rose to a crouch, evidently ready to leave her to rest. 

The blonde’s stomach dropped at the realization that she didn’t want to be alone. She could feel the nightmares yet unborn press behind her eyelids, and knew that they would pounce and ravage her mind as soon as she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to be alone, but she had already shown Anya her weakness at the stream and didn’t want the opinion the warrior had of her to worsen further. Anya must already consider her like a fragile thing  otherwise she wouldn’t have ordered so many breaks along the road. 

Clarke racked her brain for something, anything that would make Anya linger a little longer, hoping that if they talked for a while tiredness would blanket her mind and grant her a night of dreamless sleep. 

“Would you tell me about Costia?” The words fell unbidden from her mouth and they hung in the space between them, causing the very air to tremble with their heaviness. 

Anya’s eyes widened in an unusual display of surprise then hardened, glinting fiercely in the uncertain light of the portable oil lamp. The General’s stare pinned Clarke to the spot and in that moment she knew what a mouse must feel as the shadow of a swooping falcon blotted out the sun.

“Where did you hear that name?” Anya’s voice was so cutting that the blonde thought her ears would bleed from it, and she fervently wished she could take the question back. 

“The Commander…” she swallowed thickly and wrapped the blanket more firmly around herself, “Lexa told me what happened.” 

The light in Anya’s eyes suddenly turned sad, “then you know all there is to know,” she rose to leave the tent, “there’s nothing more to say on it.” 

Before she could change her mind, Clarke gathered all of her courage and reached out, firmly grabbing the warrior’s arm to stop her. 

“I do not wish to know about the manner of her death.” She had no doubt that what she already knew of it would add to her nightmares, “I’d like you to tell me how she  _ was _ .” 

Anya gave a pointed look to Clarke’s hand and she jerked it back hastily, knowing she had overstepped. Yet the General made no move to leave, just stared at her with a frown.

“Why do you ask me this?” She inquired finally. Her voice was not exactly warm, but it had lost some of its edge and Clarke relaxed a fraction. 

“Because I don’t think Lexa loves easily,” Clarke said, repeating words she’d uttered to Lexa herself, “so if she loved Costia that much, she must have been amazing. You as well for that matter.” There, she’d said it and she mentally braced for the harsh words Anya would surely rain on her head.

“Costia’s story is not mine to tell. It is Lexa’s.”

Clarke nodded. “I’m sorry Lexa lost her.” 

Anya snorted, “She wasn’t lost. She was taken, ripped from Lexa.” 

Clarke nodded again, her stomach feeling sour, and her hands twitched nervously. “She told me that the Queen took her, killed her, delivered her head to Lexa.” 

Anya nodded slowly, her eyes bright with pain that she didn’t bother to hide. “Then you know already, and there is no sense in talking about her.” 

Clarke sighed in frustration. She knew how Costia had died, knew that Lexa had loved her dearly, still did probably, but no one would tell her how Costia lived. “Death is not the summation of anyone, Anya. Their life is. There is no point in a good death, if you didn’t have a good life.” She shrugged her shoulders at Anya’s questioning look. “I listen to the warriors when they talk about dying.” 

Anya nodded slowly. She eased herself the rest of the way down onto the bedroll, crossing her legs. She fiddled with her fingers for a moment, rubbing at the glaze of ointment she could still feel on her hands. “Lexa loved Costia from the beginning, from the moment she saw her.” Anya smiled a little, remembering the day her young Seken had breathlessly told her of the beautiful, dark-skinned Seken with the chocolate eyes who had bested her on the training field. “Costia was a little older, a Seken also. Her specialty was the javelin. And she could run. She could run like the wind.” Anya smiled and shook her head. 

“She outran every Seken on the field. She could even outrun her Fos and grown warriors. She was training to be a Scout. She loved Lexa.” Anya sighed and shook her head a little, her words quiet, edged in trepidation, as if she was trying to convince herself of something.

“But not as much as Lexa loved her?” Clarke wasn’t sure why she thought it, maybe it was the way Anya had hunched her shoulders, the way her voice had changed slightly. 

Anya grunted but said nothing. It had never been in doubt that Costia had loved Lexa, but sometimes Anya had wondered if it had been Lexa who had died, would Costia have mourned as long? Closed herself off from everyone? Not that she would have wished that upon Costia. Costia had been like the wind, slipping through the leaves of the trees, laughing through the long grasses. Costia had been like an ancient dancing wisp that Lexa had never really been able to hold on to. 

“I think Costia would be happy that Lexa has you.” Clarke shifted on the bedroll, pulling the blanket further up her body. She was exhausted, but she didn’t want Anya to leave yet. She didn’t want her to leave at all. She shifted again, wiggling her legs trying to get comfortable. 

Anya watched her for a moment before rocking her body forward, so she was crouched again. She grabbed the blanket and tucked the end around Clarke’s feet. It was time to leave, but she hesitated, not ready to leave the small tent, not ready to leave Clarke.

“Will you stay in here with me?” 

Clarke knew she shouldn’t have asked, but she felt safer with Anya with her. She could feel the temperature dropping, and she shivered slightly. “It’s cold in here, it would be warmer with you.” She looked down and picked at the blanket with her fingers. “Safer with you,” she muttered. 

Anya looked towards the entrance flaps, mentally berating herself again. The smart thing to do would be to leave now. But she remembered when they’d sat around the fire, how the girl had flinched at each night sound, how she’d looked worriedly towards the forest. The forest might have been Anya’s friend, but it was still unknown to Clarke, and therefore an enemy. 

She nodded slowly. “Sha. I will stay.” She didn’t mention the relief that was so clearly written on the younger girl’s face. Nor did she mention her own relief, and the unease that had slithered into her belly dissipating like fog under a burning sun. It took a few minutes of maneuvering the two bedrolls together and finding a comfortable position, but soon they lay side by side, only inches between them, Anya on her back, Clarke on her belly. Neither spoke, and soon Anya heard the blonde’s breath even out, but sleep was still a long time coming for Anya.   
  


***************

The first thing Clarke noticed as she emerged bleary-eyed and groggy from the small tent where she and Anya had spent the night, was that walking didn’t hurt quite as much as it had the day before. She felt a blush creep up her neck at the memory of Anya’s hands spreading ointment on her backside, but embarrassment was quickly forgotten after her mind really registered what her eyes were seeing. 

She knew it had rained overnight, the drumming of water against canvas having dragged her momentarily from sleep, but after temperatures must have considerably lowered for everywhere she looked the forest was decked in a thin layer of ice. 

Frozen grass and leaves crunched underfoot, and icicles she had only seen in books thus far, hung heavily from branches, filling the morning air with an almost ethereal light whenever the weak sun touched them. 

Her breaths were small, white puffs drifting in front of her face, and the blonde remembered the goodnight stories about smoke-breathing dragons that her father used to read her.

“Is this what winter looks like?” 

“Just a taste,” Anya answered coming to stand beside her, “morning frost is only the first sign.” She looked around the small camp, the other warriors already striking the tents down while Je’saris cooked everyone’s breakfast over a small fire, before turning to take down their own shelter. 

“If we are lucky, we’ll be back in Tondisi with representatives of your Council before the first snows fall. “ the General added over her shoulder. Clarke nodded, watching her for a moment before untying one of the other picket lines. Anya’s lips quirked in a smile that softened the hard planes of her face for a moment, and Clarke felt a tingly warmth expand inside her chest.

Anya watched Clarke duck her head slightly before reciprocating the smile she’d directed her way. Together they made quick work of the tent, and the General found herself admiring the skai girl’s resourcefulness yet again. She appreciated that the blonde didn’t shied away from work and was willing to learn things that had been completely foreign to her only a few moons before, and not for lack of knowledge, but because she’d lived inside a metal box all of her life. Clarke had shown her some sketches of the thing that Skaikru called the Ark, and Anya still found it hard to believe that someone could exist among the stars, despite actual proof breathing a few paces from her. 

She could only hope that the rest of Clarke’s people were as open-minded and eager to adapt as the blonde continuously proved herself to be. 

After they were done with the tent, they rolled up their blankets and gathered the saddlebags, before joining the rest of the warriors around the ebbing fire. Je’saris dished out their morning meal quickly then doused the dying flames with water so that they’d be ready to move as soon as they were done eating. 

Clarke watched the flames sputter and hiss into nothingness, a last curl of smoke quickly dissipating in the morning air while she dug into her food. The porridge was so thick she could stick her spoon right into it and it’d stand up straight, but sweet and enriched with nuts and spices she couldn’t name. 

She was surprised when the spoon scraped the bottom of the small bowl, not having noticed how fast she had gulped the porridge down. Callum gave her an approving nod from across the circle of warriors and patted his own belly with a grin. 

Everyone else was soon done as well and the warriors scurried around the small clearing, to pack the last few things and check the horses. Clarke went to her pony, patting his head gently when he pushed his nose against her chest to nuzzle her, and noticed that someone had already saddled the animal. She would have to ask one of the others to show her how it was done again, once they got to Camp Jaha. It was not only fair, but her duty to take care of her mount and the pony had proven to be sturdy and patiently borne all of her shifting around. She’d still have preferred to be riding Honeycomb, but she could not really complain. 

Clarke swung up on the saddle, chest puffed in pride at not requiring any help, and the others closed into formation around her, except that it was Je’saris that rode beside her today with Malcom and Callum up front, while Thany and Anya brought up the rear, the goats Lexa had sent as gifts threaded on leashes behind them. 

As they sat around the fire the night before, they had discussed how much ground they still needed to cover and Clarke knew they would reach Camp Jaha by sunset. Clarke’s mouth soured at the name; she could not forgive Jaha for deciding to float her father, even though she had begun to understand the burdens of leadership better since coming to the ground. She didn’t think she’d ever forgive the man, but she found she could not judge him as harshly as she’d done in the past.

The small delegation made good time, as the woods around them became more sparse and the land gentler. She had discussed the scouts’ reports with Anya and Lexa before leaving, and knew her people had been lucky, their landing zone affording them much more space than what the Delinquents had made do with when they had crashed to the ground. 

Still, it took them hours to reach the edge of the woods, and by the time they did the sun had started to set behind them. Heavy, black clouds were rolling in from the north and already blanketed a portion of the sky, hiding the first evening stars. 

Nobody spoke, and Clarke could taste their shared tension on her tongue. It had gathered around them all, like an inexplicable sense of foreboding as they neared their destination. An electric undercurrent slithered across the blonde’s skin and every gulp of air was an icy stab into her lungs. Her mind was agitated by a million thoughts and, like a cornered beast, snapped at all of them. There were so many things that could go wrong and she felt energy leak out of her like running water as she tried to dwell on all of them at once.

Anya ordered them to dismount and stretch their legs before the last approach and she obeyed with the others, scrambling off the pony tiredly. Like the others she kept to the scant shade of a few pines, their weariness attaching itself to her bones like a disease. Clarke thought she understood - it could not be easy to forget these people had been enemies only a few days before, and the grounders only knew her. They trusted her at least a little, or so she hoped. 

Anya watched Clarke walk around with the others for a moment, the girl’s legs stiff from the long ride, then she went to crouch among a few bushes and withdrew a looking glass from a pouch at her waist. 

She found the Skaikru camp immediately, the metal walls around what Clarke had called the Ark glinting orange in the dying light. It that wasn’t far at all from where they had stopped, just a long stretch of open ground separating them from the palisade’s shut gates, but Anya wanted to approach slowly so that their appearance wouldn’t agitate the sentinels she could see manning the walls. 

She called Clarke over with a wave of her hand and the girl joined her hurriedly, imitating her stance. The General offered her the looking glass.

“Recognize anyone?” 

Clarke brought the device to her eye, squinting down the tube then, after she had scanned the walls a few times, lowered it with a shake of her head.

“I am not sure, there isn’t enough light left.” 

The sun had finally descended among the trees behind them, and only a rosy hint remained in the sky. The looming clouds didn’t help any, turning what little light was left into a rapidly darkening scale of greys.

Anya stood, reaching a decision and gathered the rest of the warband around her, Clarke still at her side.

“We will walk to the walls, leading the horses. It will look less threatening that way.” The other warriors nodded and organized themselves quickly, the skai girl moving to join them. Anya’s hand on her shoulder held her back.

“Stay close to me,” the General tried to keep a sudden strain off her voice. She couldn’t shake an odd feeling of anticipation, the same that twisted her guts right before a battle, “we will go first so that they can see you.” 

Clarke nodded solemnly and reached up to pat her hand.

“It’ll go well.” She said, but there was a worried frown shadowing her face. 

There was nothing else to say, and so they walked out of the forest’s protection and into the meadows beyond. Anya felt naked without the trees pressing in around her, as if the light armor she was wearing had been stripped away from her limbs without warning. 

“Callum,” she called in a hiss when they had covered half the distance, “ogonzaun bana.” She didn’t need to look back to know the younger Trikru was unfurling Heda’s white standard of peace. 

Clarke walked next to her in silence, matching her step for step, and without thought Anya reached out with her free hand, taking the girl’s. It was real, reassuring despite being clammy with nervous sweat and the blonde’s fingers tightening around hers quieted the churning of her stomach a little. 

The light was gone now, night surging like a black tide around them, and only half of the full moon peeked out from behind the roiling clouds. Anya hoped the banner stood out enough, but it felt quiet, too quiet as if the world around them was holding its breath.

Then there was a shout from the walls, followed by more and the crack of gunfire shattered the night. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we find out who got shot!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but you are going to need tissues for my angst. If you want to join Jude, she is suing me because of it. :P  
>  -Kendrene
> 
> I'm not so much suing Kendrene, as cursing her. But I curse her lovingly, 'cuz she's my Twin, and I love her bunches and bunches.   
>  -Jude

 

As evening shadows stretched across their camp, Abby left the sanctuary of what remained of the medical bay and briskly walked to the walls, climbing the rickety ladder that led up to one of the watchtowers they had built around the landing site in record time. 

She wasn’t surprised to find Marcus already there, flanked by Major Byrne as he supervised the change of the guard. It had become almost a ritual in the little time they had been on Earth, and she wondered, not for the first time, why they seemed to cling to familiar habits so hard. Perhaps it was part of the human mind to seek comfort in established patterns, when faced with the unknown. 

“Anything?” She asked as soon as Kane noticed her. She had asked the same question every evening since Bellamy and a few of the other Delinquents were found in the woods nearby.

“No, “ he shook his head for emphasis, “the scouting team we sent out with the woodcutters in the morning hasn’t spotted anyone in the trees. It’s been three days now. Whoever they were they seem to have pulled back.”   


“Chancellor,” Major Byrne interjected, snapping off a sharp salute, “perhaps they just saw what they needed to see. Perhaps whoever sent them will attack us soon.” 

“Perhaps they won’t,” Abby retorted, trying to ease the tension that had been slithering around camp for days, “we do not even know if the people observing us are the same ones that attacked the kids at the Dropship. The kids themselves don’t know.” 

“Considering what we found, or rather didn’t find at the Dropship site, ma’am I believe…” The Major cut off abruptly when Abby spun on her heel sharply, stalking off towards the watchtower’s balustrade. 

She was aware of Marcus hastily dismissing the Major, and his heavy footsteps coming up behind her. She almost expected him to reach out and squeeze her shoulder, and she was oddly grateful when he didn’t, leaving her to contemplate the rapidly darkening landscape. 

It took her breath away, as always, and made her a bit lightheaded, to contemplate the vastness beyond their walls. The blackness between each star had been twice as dark and endless, but somehow familiar. 

Abby felt the usual headiness of the disconnect between what she’d read in books and what was actually before her eyes. Every sound that should have been familiar, encoded by eons of survival inside her DNA, rang alien to her ears. Every whisper of the wind among the high grass made her shiver, and the lonesome hooting of a night bird had her rib cage rattle with the frightened thumping of her heart.  

She had been in the forest a few times, and to the Dropship once, before Marcus had deemed it too dangerous to risk their senior medical officer and Chancellor outside the walls, at least until they knew more of what went on around them. Every time she had felt hunted, defenseless despite the men with guns forming a cordon around her. 

She kept her eyes trained on the treeline until it was nothing more than a darker stain among the velvet black of nightfall, wishing her mind among the ancient trunks and the countless things that lived within the wilderness in her daily hunt for her lost daughter. The doctor knew that Clarke was alive, with the certainty only a mother could have, and yet as the days went by her hope wavered and cracked, like a fragile crystal nearing breaking point.

“Movement on the West Quadrant!” 

Major’s Byrne’s voice pierced the night, followed by shouts of confirmation and to Abby’s horror, a lone shot. Time seemed to still for a moment, trapping her in the middle of whipping around, unborn orders on her lips. Then more gunfire followed, bullets whizzing like mortal hail into the darkness beyond the gates, every muzzle flash staining her vision like a firebrand of doom.

Time gave a sickening lurch as she heard Marcus bark about cease fire, but she wasn’t listening any longer. It was too late to stop the deluge, too late for men and women weary with gnawing tension to listen to reason. Abby took a step and then another. Soon she was running down the platform, sliding and almost falling down the ladder, not quite knowing where she would go.

There was a lull in the gunfire as the men on the walls reloaded, a pause as quick as an intake of breath, and in that space she heard an anguished scream that flew over the walls and unerringly clawed at her heart. 

“Clarke, no!  _ NO _ !” 

It was made of rage and madness, yet carried all the heart wrenching pain of a funeral lament. Abby’s feet carried her to the gate’s controls without her really knowing how, and she elbowed the stunned Guardsman posted there to one side, pulling the lever that set the counterweights in motion. The gates began to move and she squeezed herself between the parting metal as soon as there was room, racing into the darkness beyond. She heard Marcus call her name, and Byrne’s now panicked voice ordering the sentinels to hold their fire. 

The spotlights they had installed over the camp’s doors, the same ones that Wick and Raven had tried to bring to life for more than a week, flashed briefly, making her eyes burn with the sudden whiteness. 

Darkness closed in again, but the momentary light had been  enough for Abby to see. 

She’d seen her and kept running. Her baby. Her Clarke, the woman dragging her away. And there was  _ so much blood _ . 

The spotlights flickered again and she stumbled, struggling to keep her momentum. She had to run faster. She had to save Clarke. 

Her baby. Her ba-

****************

She sat in the low chair, her elbows balanced on her knees, her head in her hands. She could hear the muffled movement outside the tent of the warriors gathering, could hear the muted clang of blacksmiths fixing weapons. Occasionally a word or two floated to her, managing to penetrate the heavy leather of the tent walls.

_ Skaikru. Death. War.  _

Her muscles ached from how long she’d sat there by  _ her _ bedside, watching patiently, her stomach in knots, her mouth sour with fear. She remembered very little of their mad dash back to Ton DC, scrambling to get back to the horses, then the trees whizzing by, branches hitting her in the face as they galloped back to Ton DC. The sounds of shots seemed to follow her not matter how far they fled. 

Two days. The girl in the bed had barely stirred in the two days that they had been back in Ton DC. Nyko had managed to dig the metal from her body, his eyes widening when he held the round piece of metal in the air. 

_ The Mountain.  _

Except it wasn’t the Mountain. It was the Skaikru, the invaders with their weapons like the Mountain. And the news had been met with a sort of strangled disbelief, which had quickly turned to hot anger, and the camp had rumbled with the sounds of war.  For once the Ambassadors had presented a united front, calling for Heda to turn the spears against Skaikru first, then deal with the Mountain after, and to Anya’s surprise, Linnea had been the most vocal among those clamoring for war. She had never liked the woman much, but the feeling of Clarke’s limp body cradled against her chest as they rushed back to Tondisi, the warmth of the girl’s life blood soaking into her shirt turned the General’s own thoughts towards a war without quarter. She didn’t like Linnea but had to admit that her fellow General had presented her reasons eloquently enough to convince her too.

Anya sighed as she straightened in her chair, eyeing the candle that was almost burned down to the wick. She could smell the cook fires, but she wasn’t hungry. What had been a parlay, a peaceful mission had quickly turned violent, and they had been caught unawares. Anya cursed tiredly. She should have known better, should have known that these foreigners couldn’t be trusted. At least none, but the one who lay unmoving in the bed before her. 

She reached out and straightened the fur that covered Clarke’s still body. It didn’t need to be straightened, the girl wasn’t cold, she was just still. Far too still. But it gave her something to do, something more than just sitting there feeling helpless, letting the guilt eat away at her. 

“How is she?”

Anya jerked in surprise, her hand immediately falling to the dagger at her waist, before she realized that the woman before her wasn’t a threat. She grunted and shook her head in irritation. She hadn’t even heard her enter, so consumed was she with watching Clarke. 

“No change,” muttered Anya as she glanced up at Lexa. Her eyes narrowed briefly when she saw the plate of food in her hand, but she turned away to stare again at Clarke, ignoring the unspoken request. 

Lexa sighed and set the food on the small table, before picking it up and awkwardly shuffling it towards Anya. She plunked it down next to the general and then retrieved another chair which she set on the other side of the small table. She grabbed a couple of dented, metal mugs and poured the mulled wine liberally. 

“You need to eat. Drink.” She pushed the mug towards Anya, and when the other woman ignored her, she picked the mug up slightly and then slammed it down onto the table. “You will do your people no good by refusing to eat and drink.” She tapped Anya’s shoulder until the woman looked at her, and then she glanced over to Clarke, jerking her chin slightly. “You will do  _ her  _ no good if you don’t eat and drink, Anya.” 

Anya sighed, grumbling under her breath, but she grabbed a chunk of the bread on the plate and tore it into pieces, popping them into her mouth before washing it down with some of the wine. And when Lexa offered her slices of the apple she’d cut, she took those too without complaint and ate them. 

“How is your arm?”

“It’s fine. Flesh wound.” 

Lexa nodded. She’d felt that age old fear seize her lungs when they’d come galloping into Ton DC, calling for Nyko. And when Anya had carried a deathly pale Clarke to their tent, she’d trailed behind shouting orders to her people to see to the rest of the wounded. To see to the dead. She’d wanted to vomit when she’d seen the bloody splotches leaking through the hastily applied bandages. And when Nyko had shooed them both out of their sleeping chamber, her hands had shook when she’d seen the blood on Anya’s arm, blood that wasn’t Clarke’s. She’d sewn the gash closed quickly and efficiently, pulling the needle through the skin of Anya’s arm, and her general never winced despite the lack of herbs for the pain. But Lexa had winced every time she’d slid the needle through her lover’s skin, as she carefully closed the wound. A wound that represented just how easily she could lose Anya, lose Clarke. 

She should have been surprised at how subtly the blonde had seeped into her thoughts, into her heart, but whenever she allowed herself to stop and dwell on what had happened, the only feeling that seized her throat was fear. Lexa’s eyes roamed over Clarke’s still face, looking for anything indicating she would recover, but there were no signs of hope to latch onto. Even Nyko didn’t know when or if the girl would wake up. She took a sip of wine and it tasted rancid in her mouth, but she forced herself to swallow. If Clarke woke...no when Clarke woke she’d have to talk to Anya about the way her heart ached whenever the skai girl was involved. She felt the words form on her lips, but she held back. It wasn’t time yet.

“Callum is complaining about not being allowed out of bed.” 

Anya smiled a little, intensely relieved that the young man had only suffered a broken leg and some scratches and bruises. She wouldn’t have wanted to face Clarke and tell her that her guard was dead, a guard that Clarke had grown to call friend. 

“I hear Thany outside growling and pacing,” muttered Anya. She wasn’t surprised. Thany took her duty seriously, and she counted it as a failure that Clarke had been injured on her watch. 

“I was going to send she and Je’Saris with a ten band to patrol the Skaikru camp, but I am worried they might be out for blood.” 

Anya nodded, “Sha, it would be best to keep them here. They will not defy you, Lexa, but they want blood right now. They want it more than the rest.” 

Lexa popped the last slice of apple in her mouth, watching the slow rise and fall of Clarke’s chest. She chewed quietly, delaying the inevitable. She knew Anya wouldn’t be particularly pleased, but she had no other viable option. 

“I’m sending them to Polis.” 

Anya stiffened, her nerves flaring, and her eyes felt gritty. “Is there anyone there to receive them?” She already knew the answer, and the guilt gnawed at her stomach, and she dropped the rest of the bread on the table. She shouldn’t have agreed for him to accompany them. 

“No.” Lexa watched Anya from the corner of her eye, knowing how sensitive of a subject it was. Je’Saris hadn’t been happy either when she’d learned. 

“The orphanages are nothing like what you suffered, Anya. They will be cared for. They will be trained and educated.” 

“The boy. I could take the boy as my Seken. He is almost old enough.” 

“And separate him from his sister?” Lexa reached out and clasped Anya’s hand in hers. “Anya, his sister has only seen two Winter’s Breath. But if you think separating them is for the best, then I will allow him to become your Seken. But she will still have to go to Polis. There is no one here who can care for her.” 

Anya wiggled her fingers, until they were laced with Lexa’s, her heart heavy and aching. With Malcom’s wife taken by the reapers over a year ago, and now with his spirit returned to the Earth, there was no other choice. “We shouldn’t have sent him with us.” 

“Malcom was a warrior, Anya. And warriors go where their generals and Hedas say. He was given the choice after his wife was taken by the reapers to retire and become a farmer or trader. He chose not to. He knew the risks.” Lexa squeezed her fingers gently, “Besides this was a peacekeeping mission. We went to parlay, to make an alliance. You had no idea this would happen. This isn’t on you, Anya.”  

Anya sighed tiredly. She knew it was true, but it did nothing to rid her mind of the memory of Jona, barely seven winter’s, who had nodded and tried to hold back the tears when he’d learned of his father’s death. And she knew it would be a long time before she could no longer hear the wails of Ina, his young daughter.  

She rubbed at the salt in her eyes and her sigh turned into a yawn. She grimaced around it and narrowed her eyes at Lexa, knowing there was no way her lover could have missed that. Heda’s next words confirmed her suspicion. 

“You need sleep, Anya.” Lexa voice was firm with command, but gentle. Their bed was taken up by Clarke’s still form, so they had laid out furs and pillows in a corner of their sleeping quarters. If anyone in camp found the arrangement odd, nobody mentioned it. 

Anya glanced at the furs and another yawn made her jaw creak, yet she turned back to Lexa with a frown, ready to protest.

“Don’t.” The Commander stood, using the height difference that afforded her to loom over her General. She had seen the frown on Anya’s brow, and the hardening of her jaw as her lover readied herself to argue. She didn’t give her the chance to get a word in, but simply pulled her to her feet and pushed her away from their bed and towards the furs. 

“I’ll stay with her a while,” she murmured when she saw Anya give an agonized look to Clarke, “I promise I will wake you if something changes.” 

At that she felt the General’s resistance dwindle, and Anya allowed her to push her down on the pelts without protest. Lexa knelt down next to the older woman, and tugged off her boots.

“Undress,” she ordered, and followed her own command by setting the boots aside and undoing the belt of Anya’s pants. 

“But…”

“You need real sleep, Anya, not the catnaps you took on that chair since you came back.” She hooked her fingers around the hem of Anya’s pants and tugged down hard for emphasis. 

With a defeated groan, her General shifted her weight on her elbows and raised her hips, allowing Lexa to tug her trousers off more easily. To the brunette’s relief, she took off her shirt without prompting, then laid down, allowing Lexa to cover her with furs.

As soon as her back hit the pelts, Anya felt her limbs grow heavy with fatigue. Lexa’s fingers grazing her skin softly as her Heda undressed her, had been like a soothing balm after a long day in the training pits, and she had felt comforted by the simple gestures. It was a ritual they shared, undressing each other, especially after a difficult day and it never failed to ease her mind and slow the mad thumping of her heart. She was relieved to see that Lexa lingered, the brunette’s fingers carding a calming rhythm through her hair. She felt her eyes grow heavy with sleep and forced herself to talk.

“Wake me if…”

“Shusha,” Lexa’s lips ghosted over her own, her lover’s hand cradling her face tenderly, “I promise.” 

Lexa whispered promises and gentle nothings against Anya’s lips, their kiss deepening for a moment before she pulled back, resting her forehead against her fos’.  She needed this. Needed the reminder that Anya was still with her, despite the numerous times she could have lost her. She caressed Anya’s high cheekbones with her thumbs, memorizing the feel of the warm, smooth skin. She kissed her one last time before reluctantly pulling back, just enough to let her gaze rove over her face. She was beautiful, fierce, and strong; and Lexa felt something clench in her chest and tears bit at her eyes. Losing Anya wasn’t an option. 

She watched the General’s tired eyes slowly close, and her face loosen into slumber. Hopefully Anya would sleep undisturbed for a few hours without being haunted by the nightmares that had her seeking Lexa’s breast since she’d come back from the Skaikru camp. 

The Commander waited until she was sure that Anya wouldn’t wake, before standing and walking back to the empty chair. She knew that duty would call her away from Clarke’s bedside soon enough, but she had a bit of time and later she’d send Thany or Je’Saris to watch over both the skai girl and the General. 

She had to admit she’d been surprised at the fierce protectiveness the warriors she’d set as Clarke’s personal guard had displayed. She had done it to keep the Skayon safe from those that harbored ill intent towards her like Quint, and had hoped that her warriors would come to see the same things Anya had found in the blonde. The same qualities she herself had begun to see. What she had not expected was for Clarke to win their loyalty over so quickly and completely. They treated her like one of their own, and as soon as they had gotten wind that Lexa and Anya intended to train her as a warrior, they had all volunteered to teach the girl something. She’d overheard Thany and Je’Saris the morning before the delegation left for the Skaikru lands, both warriors agreeing that either she or Anya should just take what they affectionately referred to as the _ skai yongon _ , as their Seken. 

She mulled the idea over as she sat down, eyes going to the unmoving girl. Perhaps it was something she should add to the list of things she needed to discuss with Anya. After what had happened two days prior, the chances for peace were slim and Clarke’s status as Skaikru could put her in danger despite the fact that she teetered between life and death at the hands of her own people. But if she wasn’t Skaikru at all…

Lexa pulled the half full plate of food to herself and munched half-heartedly on a slice of cheese. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she didn’t follow her own advice to Anya. She eschewed the mulled wine, pouring herself some water instead. The tent was warm and she didn’t want to risk getting too drowsy. She turned her attention to Clarke, watching the girl’s chest rise and fall under the pelts. Her body was no more than an impression under the heavy furs, but there was a fragility in the way she lay, in the clammy paleness of her cheeks that stabbed at Lexa’s heart like the sharpest knife. 

One of Clarke’s arms was outside the furs and she frowned. Had the girl moved without them noticing? Perhaps the pelt had just slid off her on its own. Lexa leaned forward, obeying the sudden impulse that had her take Clarke’s hand delicately between her own. 

“Please wake up Klark,” she whispered, running her thumb across the girl’s knuckes, her other hand moving to push a lock of wheat gold hair away from the girl’s face, “please wake.”

****************

Three days. Three days since they’d arrived back in TonDC, and Clarke had finally woken for a few minutes. It wasn’t nearly long enough to satisfy Anya’s worry, but it was long enough for Nyko to get Clarke to swallow some broth. Her fever had broken at least, and Nyko had solemnly declared he believed she would make it. Anya didn’t even question the immeasurable relief she felt upon hearing his words, but she did notice how the furrowed lines in Lexa’s face had softened when she was told the news. 

She straightened the fur covering Clarke’s form, her fingers curled around the edge of the pelt, her knuckles just shy of Clarke’s chin. She slowly unclenched her fingers, before raising them and ghosting them along Clarke’s smooth cheek. She was still a little warm, but it was such a relief to feel her skin against the pads of her fingers. She couldn’t resist, and she cupped Clarke’s cheek softly, her thumb gently caressing her cheek bone. She leaned down and pressed her lips to Clarke’s forehead, basking in the feel of her skin beneath her lips. She let herself rest there, letting the seconds flit by, far longer than was appropriate. And it was only when she heard the footsteps in the outer room that she jerked back, blinking in surprise, unsure just how long she’d kept her lips pressed to Clarke’s warm skin. 

“Hei?”

She stiffened at the familiar voice, her eyes narrowing.  _ What was she doing here?  _ She sighed and reluctantly retreated from the bed, slipping out of the bed chamber, but not without casting one last, lingering look at Clarke’s still form. 

“Linnea.” She nodded to the other woman, letting the flaps fall shut behind her. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t like the warrior, other than her rather brazen behavior toward Clarke. Not to mention the way she’d touched Clarke, far too familiar to Anya’s liking.

“How is she?” 

It took Anya a moment to pull her thoughts back from dangerous ground and focus on Linnea. 

“Nyko says she will make it.” Her words were clipped and harsh and bordered on rudeness, but she didn’t care. She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze never wavering from Linnea’s, and she felt her irritation build as the other general refused to concede and look away. 

Linnea recognized it for what it was, and while normally she wouldn’t bother to face off with another warrior over a woman, Clarke was more than just any woman, and at the very least, she’d grown to care for Clarke. She refused to back down, to be intimidated, and instead she smirked at Anya, knowing it would antagonize the general. 

“I would like to see her.” 

“No.” The word was cold, harsh, and the planes of Anya’s face tightened in anger. “She needs to rest. She shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“I see,” Linnea smiled, but it lacked warmth, and she shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. She eyed Anya carefully, noting the taut muscles, the hands curled into fists with white knuckles, the almost savage curve of her jaw as she ground her teeth. But still Linnea pushed further, even while she told herself that to do so was the height of stupidity. 

“And yet, you have been in her room.” She showed her teeth to Anya this time. “You have no claim on the girl, Anya.” Her words were soft, her tone almost placating, but her eyes glinted with barely concealed ire. “At least I have more of a claim than you.” 

Anya snarled, her suspicions finally confirmed. She’d known that Linnea’s touch when they’d departed for the Skaikru camp hadn’t been innocent, hadn’t been innocuous. It had betrayed a sense of intimacy. It was the touch of a lover. 

“She is no one’s, Linnea,” she hissed as she took a step forward, her anger and jealousy getting the best of her. “You took advantage of her.” 

Linnea snorted, anger coloring each word, “I did not take advantage of her! She was more than willing. She wanted my touch. She wanted me to fuck her. Fuck her hard.” She laughed when she saw her words hit Anya with all the subtlety of a swinging fist. But her laughter was cut short when Anya rushed her. 

Anya hadn’t expected to feel such anger, even hurt, at Linnea’s words. She knew she had no claim on Clarke, had no right to feel as she did. Clarke had done nothing wrong, and neither had Linnea, but she needed someone to blame. Clarke lay too still under the furs, her skin waxen pale, her breathing too shallow. Someone needed to pay for almost taking Clarke from her. 

She caught Linnea by surprise, managing to get her arms around her waist as she picked her up and slammed her to the ground with an angry snarl. She barely managed to catch Linnea’s chin with her fist, and she grinned ferally at the feel of her flesh hitting Linnea’s. But Linnea retaliated quickly with an elbow to Anya’s neck, and she choked as she rolled off of Linnea, scrambling to her feet, ready to launch herself at Linnea again, only to stumble to a halt at the angry roar from the tent doorway. 

“Hod op nou!” Lexa glared at them both, seething in anger, even as she tried to quickly rein in her vexation. She cast a quick glance towards the bed chamber where Clarke lay, relieved not to hear any sound. She stalked towards Linnea and Anya, her fists balled tightly. 

“What is the meaning of this?” She snapped, her cold gaze flitting between the two of them. Both had the grace to look ashamed, and they squirmed like young children caught disobeying. Neither would look at her, and she growled at them both, her patience wearing thin. 

She lowered her voice, staring coldly at each in turn “You would defy your Heda?” 

Linnea gulped and shook her head, suddenly feeling queasy. “My apologies, Heda,” she bowed her head, “It was a minor disagreement. I am afraid that my worry for Clarke, overcame my good judgement.” 

Lexa tilted her head staring at the general, her mind whirring chaotically.  _ Why would Linnea care about Clarke? How did she even know Clarke?  _ She knew of the general’s reputation both as a fighter and lover. It was hard not to hear of her exploits both on and off the battlefield, as she was one of the favored generals from the Smoky Mountain Clan, and she resided in Polis part of the year. 

She glanced to Anya, her suspicions growing. “Who swung first?” 

Anya swallowed hard and shifted her balance, straightening and clasping her hands behind her back. “I swung first, Heda. I am to blame for what happened here.”

Lexa winced slightly, her suspicions confirmed. She was well aware of the fact that Anya had come to care for Clarke, probably more than either of them suspected. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her forefingers. She could only think of one reason why Anya would have attacked Linnea over Clarke. Linnea was intimately acquainted with Clarke. She pushed the thought hurriedly from her mind, as her stomach roiled and the unease in her chest grew. She didn’t want to acknowledge the sadness that bloomed in her chest at the thought of Clarke being another’s. 

“And are you both done behaving like strikons battling over their favorite toy?” She glared at them both, when they both hesitated just a little too long to provide her with any satisfaction that the matter was now laid to rest. “I see. I suggest that you both deal with whatever,” she gestured between them “this is, in the training pits and not in my personal tent.” 

She didn’t give them time to respond, but instead pushed between the two of them, making sure to let her shoulders hit them both on their arms. It was a warning, and she was pleased when they both fell back, giving way and bowing their heads. She pushed them from their mind as she slipped into the bedchamber to check on Clarke. 

Anya felt Lexa’s blow keenly. It didn’t physically hurt when she’d hit her on the arm with her shoulder, but she had understood the warning behind the movement. She straightened, ignoring the flare of pain her chest, as she turned back to Linnea, her upset simmering in her belly. 

“Clarke is healing slowly, and she woke up this morning for a little bit.” It was as gracious as she was prepared to be to the other general. 

Linnea nodded, accepting it for what it was. “Clarke and I might have…” she coughed, her mind backpedaling when Anya glared at her in warning, “I mean...we...I.” She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, trying to formulate the words in such a way that the other general wouldn’t punch her in the face, and cause their Heda to skin them both alive. 

“Clarke and I might have enjoyed each other’s company the other night, but it was nothing more than that for either of us.” She shrugged in the face of Anya’s silent judgement, “Make no mistake, I do care for her but clearly not in the same manner as you do.” She laughed at Anya’s look of shock and outrage. 

“Oh please. Even I could tell. You love her.” 

Anya gasped, her heart pounding against her ribs, and she choked as she tried to think of a suitable reply in the form of a denial. 

“She cares for you,” Linnea muttered quietly, wondering suddenly at the resigned sadness that washed over her. 

“What do you mean?” Anya barely managed to spit the words past her dry tongue. 

Linnea chuckled, “It was probably more in what she didn’t say, than what she did say. Not to mention how she looks at you.” Linnea rolled her eyes. “It’s really quite tiresome.” She chuckled again, relaxing fully. “Besides, I’m smart enough to not compete against Heda and her most famous general.” 

“Compete? But we aren’t...no. We don’t…” Anya groaned internally as the words faltered on her tongue, and she couldn’t seem to corral her thoughts enough to form a coherent statement. She huffed in annoyance, glaring at the smug general.

“You know, it is fairly common in the Smoky Mountain Clan to take more than one lover. Many of our family units are comprised of three even four lovers and their children.” She shrugged, “It can work.” She smiled toothily at Anya, “It can work for you.”

Anya stared dumbfounded at Linnea, her mind reeling. She knew that many clans practiced polyamory. Life was too short and hard to care about who slept with who, or who loved who. Sexual freedom and fluidity was fairly normal among the clans, but she was surprised by Linnea’s bluntness. She had thought her interest in Clarke had been well hidden, well at least hidden from everyone except Lexa. 

And despite her shock, she couldn’t help but feel hope. Perhaps there was a way that she could have them both. She would never give Lexa up, but maybe there was room for Clarke. She wanted there to be room for Clarke. 

Linnea took pity on the struggling general. “Look. My interest in Clarke was nothing more than just having a good time, but I do respect her. I care for her. But I think, she and I would both agree that her heart lies elsewhere, and we are better off as friends.” 

Linnea waited for a moment, and when Anya simply stared at her, she rolled her eyes. “Right. I will be going now. When Clarke wakes, please tell her I stopped by.” She glanced around the room, “Well you don’t need to tell her everything that happened.” She smirked when Anya finally nodded to her. 

“Oh and one more thing, Anya?” She waited for Anya to look at her, her voice heavy and cold; “If you hurt her, I will kill you. Even your Heda won’t be able to protect you.” She left before Anya could respond, but she was confident that her message had been received. 

Anya watched her leave, before slowly turning around and facing the bed chamber. She hesitated, unsure if she and Lexa were ready to have this conversation. They had been dancing around it, hinting at it, perhaps both too afraid to admit that being around Clarke, with Clarke felt good. Felt right. Clarke felt like possibility. She slipped inside the bedchamber. 

*******************

The softest of rustlings scratched at the edges of her drifting consciousness, and Lexa jerked upright with a panicked start.  Anya had left some time before after they had talked quietly at Clarke’s bedside, neither of them wanting to be too far from the blonde’s side. That alone spoke volumes about the state of their hearts. 

She shook her head, trying to clear the fog from her mind.  She must have dozed off while keeping vigil over Clarke, because she had slid so far down on the chair that the sudden motion almost sent her sprawling to the tent’s floor. She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands and shook her head from side to side, as a wolf emerging from water, to try and shrug off the sticky web of slumber. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed since she’d walked inside her tent to find Linnea and Anya staring daggers at each other, and overhear the raven haired General lay down the truths of Anya’s heart with a smirk plastered on her face. What had made Lexa reel had not been the words themselves, but how close Linnea had unknowingly come to expose the hidden clockwork of Heda’s own heart. 

Neither she, nor Anya could dance around the issue longer, or contest the fact that the fallen star that had seemed to come between them, had in fact united them, melded them together with her fire.  _ Would you consider it?  _ Anya had asked, the plea evident in her eyes even if her voice remained unyielding stone. 

_ I already have.  _ Lexa had replied, and with such simple words she’d laid herself bare in ways that only Costia had known before. 

The rustling came again, more insistent this time and the Commander bent forward, eyes suddenly hawkish as they roved over Clarke’s still form. She thought perhaps the girl’s hand had moved a fraction, sliding over the pelts, but wasn’t sure.  

She watched without blinking, until her eyes began to burn and, just as she relaxed back into her seat, cursing both her imagination and desires, Clarke bolted upright with a scream. 

It was a primal sound, a wail of abject terror and utmost misery. It rooted Lexa to the spot and she watched on, unable to intervene as the girl screamed without a pause to the point the Commander was sure her lungs and throat would give out. 

The shriek filled the tent, horror turned to solid form. 

It shredded Lexa’s soul like a blizzard of ice shards at the height of Winter’s Breath. She’d seen what the ice storms did to flesh and this was nothing different except it ripped apart her very core. The noise expanded inside her, filling the spaces between her ribs until her chest began to ache and Lexa thought that if she dared to look her ribs would be jutting out the meat of her chest and reveal the bleeding heart within. Then the sound ended,  as abruptly as it had begun, and the sudden silence was just as deafening.

The Commander sat there shattered, gasping for breath, conscious of the silent tears that streamed down Clarke’s cheeks in rivers. 

The echoes of a similar scream tore through her mind and the past yawned open under her feet. 

Lexa remembered.

_ ************ _

_ The familiar scent hit her nose as soon as she stepped into her antechamber and Lexa didn’t bother to fight back the smile that gentled her face. The negotiations had been going well and the Azgeda envoys had seemed amenable, contrary to Titus’ predictions, but she hadn’t dared to hope…  _

_ But the unmistakable, beloved scent was there, cardamom and orange, painting the air inside her chambers with the refreshing fragrances of spring. They were Costia’s favorite scented candles, and every turn of season when the traders from the southernmost clans visited, Lexa bought as many as they would trade so that her lover could burn them at will.  _

_ “Kostia?” It was a whisper, a prayer, a hope that took flight from her lips and Lexa fought with her sash and the shoulder guard and her armor, dropping everything carelessly on the floor in a heap. She walked forward quickly, struggling not to run, aware that even in the sanctity of her rooms she was still Heda and thus required to display a little dignity. Besides if she ran, Costia would tease her about it for weeks.  _

_ The darkness of her bedroom gave her pause, and Lexa teetered on its threshold. She was sure she’d smelled the candles burning, yet the room was still and quiet and the only light was the muted silver glow of the waning moon.  _

_ It didn’t matter. She could see a mass of curls against the whiteness of her pillow, blankets tucked so high a few locks of hair were the only thing visible. She smiled then, bright and pure, laughing quietly at the fact that Costia could not help but usurp Heda’s side of the bed.  _

_ She wondered briefly why her houmon was already fast asleep, as it was not that far into the night, and then chastised the thought immediately. The Azgeda emissary had guaranteed her lover’s wellbeing, but Costia still came from weeks of captivity. She must be exhausted.  _

_ Lexa’s stomach churned with a wave of bile. If Costia had been hurt… _

_ That got her moving and she covered the distance separating her from the bedside in silent strides, going as far as to hold her breath.  _

_ Reaching out she lifted the blanket as delicately as she could, readying herself to kiss her slumbering niron awake. It took Lexa a moment to realize what she had mistook for Costia’s curled body, were bunched up blankets, artfully placed in the cruel mockery of warm flesh and living blood. It took her another breath to see that Costia’s eyes were open, dead and staring. A third sharp inhale and she finally could smell the coppery tang of blood. And there was a sea of it, soaked into her sheets. _

_ Lexa would not be able to sleep in the dark for many months after. _

_ ************ _

The present crashed around her, and Lexa gasped out of a paralysis that had lasted the space of a heartbeat, but for her had stretched as wide as the void Clarke had told her existed between two nearby stars. She moved, scrambling off the chair and falling to her knees with a muted thud, arms going instinctively around the blonde’s shaking form. 

Somehow the Commander managed to heave herself on the bed and half-sit, half lay next to Clarke, cradling her as gently as she could. Clarke’s sobs against the dip of her neck were little, broken things and in between Lexa heard her calling for her nomon. 

She grimaced as the fragmented pieces of the attack fell into place. Anya had told her of a lone Skaikru woman exiting the camp’s gates and running towards them as if the spirits possessed her, Clarke’s name loud on her lips. 

She had mentioned seeing her stumble, but not much else. Could it…?

A feeling of cold dread settled around Lexa’s shoulders, but she couldn’t be sure of anything. None of them could. 

She forced herself to hum gently and stroke Clarke’s hair, until she felt the girl relax a little. Her breath was still ragged and Lexa didn’t dare move away just yet, even though she felt warm wetness soak into the front of her shirt. 

It was only a few more seconds before Anya burst into the bedchamber, Thany so close on her heels, that the guard thumped into Anya’s back, when the General skidded to a halt. Thany backed off, muttering her apologies, as she quickly glanced around the small room, realizing immediately that there was no danger. She bowed her head to Heda and hurriedly retreated, relieved that Clarke had awoken, although mystified as to why she had screamed. She decided that was a mystery better solved by Anya and Heda. 

Anya took a deep breath trying to calm her racing heart. When she’d heard the anguished scream, she had known immediately it was Clarke. How she instinctively knew was beyond her, and she wasn’t going to question it. Realizing there was not physical danger, she allowed herself to relax, as much as was possible underneath Lexa’s withering glare and the muffled sobs of Clarke. 

“I’m sorry. I was afraid…” She shrugged helplessly before she carefully sat down on Clarke’s other side. She gently placed her hand on the girl’s back, mindful of the bandages. She wasn’t used to being so gentle, so soft. Lexa rarely needed her like that, and she rarely needed Lexa like that, but this was Clarke. She could be soft for Clarke. 

Clarke sniffled, burying her face in the crook of Lexa’s neck, muttering incoherently, as her mind tried to hold onto her last thought before she woke screaming.  _ Mom _ . Her mind was fuzzy, clouded with pain, and each breath burned. She inhaled against Lexa’s warm skin, and the faint smells of the wet forest flooded her nose, and she felt her thoughts unravel, and she couldn’t remember what was so important only a moment ago. 

She panted, trying not to breathe too deeply for the sharp pains in her shoulder and along her ribs. She knew she had been shot twice, one bullet in her right shoulder, the second bullet bouncing off her ribs and digging a deep slough along her side. 

But she couldn’t help but inhale a little through her nose, as she pushed her face deeper into Lexa’s neck. Her lips scraped along the warm, sensitive skin, and Clarke instinctively pursed her lips, her tongue pressing against the back of her lips, before slipping past the cage of her mouth to taste the beat of Lexa’s heart. 

Lexa shuddered slightly when she felt the wet flick of Clarke’s tongue. She wasn’t sure Clarke was even aware of what she was doing, but Lexa suspected she might have a mark there in the morning. And despite how unbecoming it was for Heda to be marked in such a way, she couldn’t bring herself to protest and push Clarke away, not when the girl was so clearly upset, not when the heat pooling at the base of her spine made her breathless with want. 

Anya watched closely, noting the way Lexa’s eyes had widened suddenly, the barely contained shudder that ran through her body. Anya was intimately acquainted with that particular shudder, knew that it only happened when she sucked on Lexa’s pulse. She waited for the jealousy, or even the hurt at the thought of someone else touching Lexa, and she was surprised that she felt neither of those, only a sort of contentment.

It was some sort of warmth that slowly expanded in her belly, and little by little the cold knots of fear that had tied around her stomach melted away. Clarke was safe, she was hurt but alive and she and Lexa would make sure she stayed that way. She decided not to question the peace that having the other two so close engraved into her bones, and the spark of hope that Linnea’s words of sharing and extended families had started in her chest, grew into a steady fire. Anya had always thought she could do without settling down, because she’d never know what that felt like, but now she ached for something she had no words for, and she saw the same unspoken want in Lexa’s eyes.

She was startled when she felt Clarke’s hand fall into her lap, her palm up, fingers twitching. She looked up at Lexa who still held Clarke, Clarke’s face still tucked into Lexa’s neck. Lexa nodded, a small smile flirting at the edges of her mouth, but her eyes were filled with warmth. Anya looked down again at Clarke’s hand waiting for her, beckoning to her. She smiled a little as she slid her palm against Clarke’s, and when Clarke’s fingers immediately wrapped around hers, she blew out a long breath that she didn’t realize she had been holding. 

She shuffled closer, careful not to jar Clarke, and she slid her arm around Clarke’s lower back, until her fingers nudged Lexa’s hip. She hooked her fingers into the top of Lexa’s pants, letting her knuckles press against Lexa’s warm skin, grounding her. She brushed her thumb against the inside of Clarke’s wrist, enjoying the moment of being connected to both women. It felt good, it felt right, and she never wanted to let go. 

Sometime later, Anya felt Clarke’s grip around her fingers slacken, so she craned her neck to shoot a questioning look in Lexa’s direction. The brunette nodded minutely, Clarke’s face still pressed into the dip of her collarbone, and together they maneuvered the sleeping girl back onto the bed. 

Anya plucked at the sweat stained pelts with a grimace. She tried not to linger too much on Clarke’s naked form, but the blood seeping through the bandages around the blonde’s ribs was like a physical blow to the stomach, much more vicious than anything her enemies had ever hit her with. 

She saw Lexa follow her gaze and winced, looking away, the realization that they both cared for Clarke in ways they had not thought possible and actively tried to deny making things hesitant and new between them as well. But Lexa just followed her gaze to the bloodstained bandages, lips pursed in thought.

The Commander had expected to feel upset as her eyes caught Anya staring so openly at Clarke. Instead she felt seething anger coil inside her chest. The blonde looked too pale, too thin, the dark blood staining her side too violent a comparison to her waxen, clammy skin. Lexa had wondered at the paleness of Clarke’s skin before, and chalked it up to the fact she had lived so many years away from any sun. But this was different - the girl was corpse-white, sickness and hurt slicking every inch of her with rancid sweat. 

There was no way they could move her enough to give her a proper bath, but perhaps washing the last shreds of her nightmare off her flesh would suffice for now. 

Anya must have reached a similar conclusion, because she gathered the sweat-soaked pelts that had been bunched over the girl into her arms, making for the main part of the tent.

“Have my handmaidens warm some water, and get us clean towels,” Lexa said quietly, and her General nodded before pausing, eyes roving back to Clarke’s hurt side, “should I fetch Nyko?” she murmured just as quietly. Neither of them wanted to risk waking Clarke. 

“I don’t think so,” Lexa shook her head, finger gently tracing the Skayon’s bandaged torso, “she’s not bleeding anymore. It’s just seepage. Let’s wash her first, then we’ll see.” 

Anya ducked into the main part of the tent, letting the flap that hid Lexa’s bedchamber fall close behind her. The Commander heard the handmaidens enter moments after, and her General whispering orders to them. 

Turning her attention back to Clarke, Lexa used a clean knife she had brought along with the plate of food hours ago, to slice the bandages away. The ones wrapped around the blonde’s right shoulder she left undisturbed, as they didn’t look in need of changing. 

Lexa knew enough of field medicine to know how to check for infection, so after exposing the deep gash along Clarke’s ribs, she sniffed the wound and ghosted her fingertips delicately around the stitched furrow. 

Clarke’s skin was cool to the touch and none of the stitches had ripped, much to Lexa’s relief. She tossed the dirtied bandages on the floor just as Anya reappeared, arms full of towels. A handmaiden followed, carefully balancing a wash basin full of steaming water onto a wooden tray. 

After the maiden had left, Anya and Lexa busied themselves with changing the bed around Clarke, before the Commander pulled the chair close to the bedside, using a towel Anya had dipped in the hot water to wipe flakes of dried blood from Clarke’s side. 

Her General moved to the other side of the bed, sitting carefully on its edge and reaching out with a second damp cloth, to dab softly at the blonde’s face. Clarke shifted into her touch with a soft groan, and Anya froze, hand pressed against her cheek.

“It’s alright,” Lexa soothed, “I don’t think she will wake again.” 

Leaving Anya to wipe down the rest of Clarke’s body, Lexa focused on the girl’s injured side, using the supplies Nyko had left by her bedside to care for the wound. She spread a generous layer of healing poultice over the gash, then motioned Anya to prop Clarke up, so that she could wrap clean strips of linen around the girl’s chest.

Anya felt her cheeks burn as she glided the wet cloth across Clarke’s belly. She licked her lips, mouth suddenly parched when her eyes strayed lower, to the golden tuft of soft curls between the girl’s legs. She tore her eyes away with an effort, casting a hurried glance towards Lexa and silently thanked the Spirits at finding her engrossed in poulticing the girl’s side. When the Commander signaled her, she let the cloth drop to the bed, and put her hands under Clarke’s arms lifting her up while Lexa applied new bandages. It made her want to cry how light and fragile the girl felt in her arms. Nyko had warned them that Clarke’s body was consuming all its reserves to heal her, and the General knew they would have to rouse the blonde and force feed her eventually if she didn’t come to again on her own. 

For a time the only sounds were the girl’s breathing, interrupted by mutters and whimpers as she dreamt, and the gentle lapping of the basin’s water as they finished washing her. Anya tried to smooth the knots out of Clarke’s sweat matted hair for a time, but gave up with a sigh, realizing there was no way to do that short of giving the girl an actual bath. 

“Maybe when she is better we can bathe with.. I mean...we...uh…” She cursed under her breath, at the words tumbling from her mouth. “I didn’t mean…”

Lexa watched her lover struggle, trying to contain an amused half-smile.  She decided to take pity on her lover, although she was tempted to make her suffer a little for her slip. “I know what you meant.” She grabbed a dry cloth and wiped her hands, cleaning up the remaining poultice. 

“But perhaps it is time we talked about it.” She didn’t look at Anya as she busied herself picking up the dirty bandages and dropping them in the basin before calling for a handmaiden to take them away and burn them. 

Anya watched as Lexa slowly turned to face her, her arms falling behind her back to grab above her elbows. It was a familiar stance. Anya had seen it a thousand times before, but it was Heda’s stance, not Lexa’s. She shook her head and turned her attention back to Clarke, straightening the new clean furs. They didn’t need straightening, but she needed to keep her hands and mind occupied even as she struggled to formulate words that would make sense of what was in her mind, in her heart. 

“I’m not going to talk to you when you’re like that,” she muttered as she raised herself up on the bed enough to curl one leg under, before settling more comfortably on the bed next to Clarke’s knees. 

Lexa didn’t even bother to pretend to not know what Anya meant. She nodded slowly, letting her hands fall to her sides before she too decided to sit on the bed, mimicking Anya’s position. “Better?” she asked, a fine trace of amusement coloring her voice. 

“There is no alliance.” She rolled her eyes when Anya jerked her head towards her, looking slightly aghast. 

“Really? This was what you wanted to talk about?” Anya huffed in irritation.  

Lexa stiffened and growled a little in frustration before sighing and shaking her head. She reached out and grabbed Anya’s hand, curling her fingers around Anya’s longer ones. “Just...let me build up to it,” she muttered, feeling uncharacteristically unsure and worried. 

Anya nodded, squeezing Lexa’s hand. She understood how hard it was for Lexa to admit to emotions that she worried made her look weak, or more importantly feel weak. “I think we need to send out more patrols, possibly even consider a blockade. We can’t afford to let the Skaikru wander too far. They may end up starting a war,” she chuckled coldly “or escalate a war that has already started.” 

“So we are at war then?” 

“I…” she hesitated, her mouth dry, her eyes burning from lack of sleep. She simply wanted to lay down and sleep, sleep without dreams, and when she woke, everything would be as it should be. She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, trying to stave off the headache that was slowly building behind her eyes. 

“I don’t know,” she murmured tiredly, eyes closed. “What should be simple is no longer simple.” 

“War is never simple, Lexa.” Anya turned Lexa’s hand in her own so it was palm up, and started to run her fingertips lightly across her palm. It was a soothing gesture, and she smiled when she felt Lexa start to relax after a few moments. It never failed to relax Heda or Lexa.

“I find myself hesitant to start a war because it would mean going to war against her people,” she admitted softly, her fingers twitching as Anya continued to tickle and scratch at her palm. 

“It would hurt her. She might even have to choose.” Anya stated it quietly, matter-of-factly, no emotion in her voice. The decision to call for war was Lexa’s alone, and Anya did not envy her the burden, nor did she want to add to it by making an emotional plea of any kind. 

Lexa opened her eyes, taking a deep breath, forcing herself to look at Anya. “And why would she choose us?” Her voice broke on the last word, and Anya felt it prick at her.

“Perhaps we should give her a reason to,” she tried to keep the hope out of her voice, but she was sure Lexa heard it when she narrowed her eyes briefly at Anya. 

“You want her.” There was no question, just a simple statement of fact. 

Anya nodded slowly, “Sha. I do want her. I want her the same way that I want you.” She cocked her head to the side, scanning Lexa’s face, even as the younger woman dropped her head, trying to hide from Anya’s searching gaze. “And you, Lexa? What do you want?”

“You,” she muttered. “I want you, Anya.” 

Anya’s heart clenched at her confession, her eyes unexpectedly wet. She shifted closer, her hip bumping Clarke’s legs as she leaned over her, one hand finding Lexa’s chin. “Look at me. You always have me. That will never change.”

Lexa nodded mutely, her heart pounding so hard against her ribs, she was sure it would wake Clarke. “But you want her. I see the way you look at her, Anya. You look at her as if she holds the answers to the questions you haven’t even thought yet to ask.” She held up her hand even as Anya started to shake her head. “Yes, you do. I would not stand in your way.” 

Anya laughed hoarsely, “how noble of you, Lexa. But I think you are lying to yourself, because since she has come to us, there is a light in your eyes, a softness. And I certainly didn’t put it there.” 

Anya stared at Lexa for a moment, as if she were looking for something, and then she suddenly pulled back and stood, walking swiftly around the end of the cot until she stood in front of Lexa. She fell to her knees slowly, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s waist. She leaned her forehead against Lexa’s, “ I think this girl from the Skai has changed us. For the better. I think she makes us more, makes us stronger.” She nuzzled her nose tenderly against Lexa’s, “I think you and I could be us and she.” 

Lexa sighed quietly, reaching up to cup Anya’s face. Perhaps some battles were useless to fight, when accepting was far easier. “Ok,” she nodded, heart in her throat as she pressed her lips lightly against Anya’s. “Okay,” she muttered against Anya’s mouth, sighing in relief at the warmth of Anya’s arms as they wrapped tightly around her waist.

Clarke stirred under the furs.

******************

“Are you sure?” Octavia asked for the upteenth time.

“I told you, it was a peace flag.” Bellamy shuddered at the memory of what they had found in the high grass. After Byrne had managed to enforce the ceasefire, Kane had led the guards in a search party. 

He didn’t know exactly how the shooting had started, since he’d been on guard duty on the opposite watchtower, but he’d witnessed how it had ended.

They had found a white banner, sprayed with red, and next to it a dead pony, supplies scattered on the ground around the animal. Realizing that the guards had shot people that clearly came under a peace banner had made him sick, and he had retched noisily when his flashlight had bounced off Abby’s body. They had been calling her for some time, afraid that the people fleeing the gunfire had taken her away with them, and Bellamy couldn’t decide if that wouldn’t have been better. 

As if reading his mind, his sister asked.

“How is Doctor Griffin?”

He spread his hands impotently, but it was Raven that answered. 

“Same as far as we know. Bellamy tried to get into the med bay, and so did I. The guards Byrne posted there turned us away.” 

Octavia paced around the small room, reminding him of a caged animal. She tormented the cuffs of her jacket and he thought he could hear her grind her teeth. Raven shot him a puzzled look and he shrugged.

“Of course now Byrne chooses to go all professional on us,” Octavia snarled, “after her own men fucked up big time.” Bellamy opened his mouth to defend the guards, and she glared at him so fiercely he took a step back 

“You said she was screaming Clarke’s name?” 

“Well that’s what Miller’s dad said. He was the one posted at the gate.” 

“Ok so if Clarke’s alive, then the others may be too. We gotta go look for them. We also need to find Lincoln. If we find Lincoln, he can help us find Clarke.”

Bellamy was shaking his head before she was done talking. “We don’t know where Lincoln is, and we don’t know that Clarke is alive, and you heard what Kane said in the morning. Nobody is allowed out of the camp unless accompanied by guards and then only for essential foraging. Besides, the fence is electrified now.” 

“Wick will shut the power down for a couple minutes if I ask him.” Raven interjected, siding with Octavia, “we can’t give up on the others like this. I understand Kane not wanting to lose men on a fool’s errand to get back a bunch of former criminals...but they’re our friends. Octavia is right. We gotta try.”

“The three of us?! Against whatever is out there?” He gestured to the small porthole on one side of the room. The sun was still up, but there were maybe two hours of daylight left. Days were shortening fast, and that meant winter. The thought had him more worried than the Grounders lurking in the forests around Camp Jaha. 

“Look,” his sister planted herself in front of him, tilting her head in a way he knew well and dreaded. It was the same pose she adopted when she was going to be particularly stubborn, chin jutting out pugnaciously and eyebrows drawn into a frown as if she could glare things into going her way. “I am sneaking out to look for Lincoln and Clarke and Raven’s coming.”

“I am?” 

Bellamy smirked at the mechanic’s bewilderment. Octavia had evidently cooked the plan up without sharing.

Octavia rolled her eyes and Raven sighed. “Guess I am. Glad to know you can use a cripple.”   

“Octavia…” He grabbed her arm, but she jerked away, obviously reading what he was about to say on his face. 

“You can’t keep me safe forever Bell. We’re going. Now, are you coming?” 

He sighed, fingering the Guard’s badge Kane himself had pinned to his jacket. He had a duty to the people in the camp, but also to his sister. Raven was the smartest person he knew, but with her leg she wouldn’t be much use in a fight. 

“It seems I don’t have a choice,” he muttered, resigned, “the Guards shift at dusk. We may as well go then.” 

The other two nodded and they went their separate ways. Octavia would gather some supplies while Raven talked to Wick. Bellamy’s steps were heavy as he walked towards the armory, and he fingered the pistol at his waist as he ran through plausible excuses to get past the officer there. He was not about to head into the wilds without a rifle, not after what he’d seen during the Dropship battle.

He missed Clarke, he’d hoped...he didn’t know exactly what he’d hoped would happen between them to be honest, and he hoped that Abby had really seen her daughter out of the gates, although he had a hard time believing it. But he was sure that if their positions were reversed, the blonde would already be roaming the woods to look for him. 

Raven was right he agreed, quickening his pace. Their friends were lost and it was up to them to try and find them.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn Abby's fate. Lexa and Anya are two gay idiots. And Lexa is a hot gay mess. Oh...and have a little Clexanya. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you as always to my wickedly awesome Twin, Kendrene. Love you.  
> -Jude
> 
> PLEASE BE AWARE: There is mention of a minor character death. If you would prefer to know ahead of time who dies before reading this chapter, please let K or I know in the comments. Thank you.

Clarke woke to the memory of gentle arms wrapped around her and a conversation whispered at her bedside. Its contents made the edges of her shattered recollections bittersweet, dulled the pain of her wounds at least a little. 

The bed was empty now, but she could feel their warmth linger, and the knowledge it had been Anya and Lexa holding her suffused her own cheeks with bold strokes of red. The shrine of ice that had encased her heart since she had woken screaming for her mother, relented its hold, but it was only the space of a heartbeat.

One breath later and her ears were ringing with the sound of gunfire, two, and pain raced across her limbs, three exhales and she saw her mother race towards her and fall, red blossoming between her breasts. 

The blonde chocked back a small sob, blinking tears away so rapidly that the room around her came into focus with a sickening lurch. A small oil lamp burned at her bedside, and in its uncertain light Clarke could glimpse someone sleeping on a nearby chair. She had seen her before, a slip of a girl about thirteen and the youngest of Lexa’s handmaidens. She was tempted to make a noise and wake her, anything to not be alone with her thoughts any longer, but the child slept so peacefully that she didn’t have the heart to wake her. 

A murmured conversation drifted inside the bedchamber, the flaps that hid the main tent from view not enough to muffle it completely.

“The Council is evenly split, Heda,” Edric familiar voice pricked Clarke’s ears, “half of us voted for war with Skaikru and half for a blockade.”

“I know this Edric. It doesn’t bear repeating.” Lexa voice was as collected as she had been when Clarke had knelt before Heda the first time, but the blonde could detect a trace of what she thought was irritation in the steel of her voice.

“Then what will it be?” Another man she didn’t know demanded, “by law Heda must break the tie-” 

He was interrupted by the others, outrage clear in the way they spoke over one another. Nobody demanded things of Heda in that tone. Clarke heard the words “Azgeda dog” and “branwada” several times during the exchange, not quite sure what the last meant, but it didn’t sound like a compliment.

“Blockade.” Lexa’s voice cut through the din like a sharp blade, and utter silence reigned for a moment as the Ambassadors absorbed her decision, before they erupted into another bout of arguing. 

“Cowardice!” barked  the same man that had been shushed so violently moments ago, “these Skaikru doesn’t stand a chance against all of us!” 

“Only a fool wages two wars at the same time,” to Clarke surprise it wasn’t Lexa who replied, but Linnea,  “going after either of them with one at our backs would be suicide. A blockade will weaken Skaikru, soften them for Heda’s rightful strike. But I know Azgedakru are too thickheaded for even the simplest strategy. It must be the cold,” the General concluded, not bothering to hide her contempt, “freezing their brains solid.” 

The Azgeda envoy was left to mutter alone, while even those that had clamored for battle with him saw the sense of Linnea’s words. 

Clarke felt a burst of gratitude towards Lexa and the General fill her aching chest. 

True, neither of them had ruled war out, but a blockade meant that Heda didn’t mean to move against her people right away, and perhaps Clarke would have time to plead on their behalf. Her hand moved under the furs, and she fingered the bandages that covered her torso, wincing when even the slightest pressure made her flesh burn.

Lexa spoke again, but too quietly for her to hear and her words were followed by the rustling of feet on the tent’s floor. Clarke guessed the meeting had been adjourned, and seconds later she saw a hand pull  the bed chamber’s curtain open. 

Evening out her breaths, she closed her eyes and faked sleep. For some reason she didn’t want anyone to know she was awake yet. She recognized the familiar cadence of Lexa’s careful steps, then heard the Commander murmur something in the grounder’s tongue, and the girl that was supposed to have kept watch over her woke up with a squeal. It quickly turned to hasty apologies at having been caught sleeping by Heda herself, and Clarke had to turn her face in the pillow a little, to hide the smile that Lexa’s soothing reply brought to her lips.

The duality at the foundation of the Commander’s nature still astounded Clarke and sometimes thoroughly stole her breath away. It would seem impossible that such a caring, soft-spoken woman could exist underneath the cold, often brutal veneer of Heda, but it did. Clarke had seen the transformation with her own eyes; the brooding warlord sprawled atop her throne almost like an avatar of divinity turned to a hesitant girl by feelings and Anya’s touch. She’d witnessed the latter at her bedside hours ago, more in the long pauses as the two women spoke than in the words themselves.

She heard Lexa dismiss the girl, then putter around the bedchamber softly, as she obviously tried not to disturb her. When Clarke opened her eyes a fraction to peek at the Commander, she found Lexa with her back turned away from the bed whilst pouring herself a cup of water from the pitcher her maidens had left on the chamber’s table.

“Thank you,” she croaked softly, causing the brunette’s shoulders to jerk in surprise, “for not going to war with my people,” she swallowed hard around her words, tongue as thick and dry as an old piece of leather in her mouth, “you have every right to.” 

Lexa set the water pitcher down onto the table with a loud rattle, and Clarke noticed she had sloshed a bit of water down her front. She wanted to apologize for startling the older girl, and opened her mouth to do just that, but the Commander whirled around, an expression of immense relief crossing her face. 

“Klark.” She cooed softly, coming to kneel beside the bed. The quiet tenderness of her voice sent shivers down the blonde’s back. She tried to talk again, but Lexa shushed her quickly, before cupping the back of her head and lifting her so she could drink from the cup Heda had poured for herself. 

“Here, drink first.” 

Clarke did so greedily, even though her chest hurt as she swallowed, and when she was done, Lexa gently guided her head back down on the pillow. Clarke hated the weakness pervading every inch of her and was afraid she would see harsh judgment in Lexa’s eyes, but the green depths only held worry and the hint of a frown as the brunette placed the back of her hand against Clarke’s forehead.

“No fever.” The Commander beamed down at her, before removing her hand. Clarke had to stifle the sudden urge to cry out at the loss, “how do you feel?” 

“Like I’ve been shot,” Clarke replied automatically, then winced afraid her reply would sound rude, letting out a gasp at the searing pain the movement laced into her spine. 

“Hold still,” Lexa cautioned, a small smile at her joke warring with a flash of concern on her face, “although it can’t be too bad if you are joking.” She rested her hand on Clarke’s uninjured shoulder, lightly squeezing it, and the blonde felt herself be grounded by her touch. 

Her breathing, which had hiked to a fast panting with pain, slowed down, and she managed to relax under the furs as the burning lines along her side gradually stopped throbbing. 

“Thank you,” she repeated once she was sure she could talk without whimpering, “I…” 

“Shusha.” Lexa waved her thanks off and sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. She toyed with the half full cup for a moment, before draining it in one long gulp. Clarke could tell that she was tired, not only by the black smudges she had spotted under her eyes, so dark it looked like the brunette was wearing her warpaint when she wasn’t, but by the way she sat, slouching forward, elbows planted on her thighs to keep herself upright. 

“Your people have put me in a tight spot, Clarke.” There wasn’t an ounce of accusation in Lexa’s voice, but Clarke still felt shame burn red spots on her face. The blonde struggled up on her elbows, managing to push up from the bed, before pain doused her in fire, causing her to moan. 

“I said lay  _ still _ .” 

“I’m tired of lying still,” she muttered staring defiantly at Lexa, or at least as defiantly as she could as she panted through the pain raising through her muscles. She closed her eyes tightly, counting each pant in her mind, hoping it would help her relax and ease the searing burn in her shoulder. 

Lexa shook her head at the stubborn girl. “You are putting too much weight on your shoulder, Clarke,” she admonished. She grabbed one of the furs at the end of the bed and quickly rolled it into a bundle before leaning it against the headboard of the bed. “Here, I’m going to scoot you back so you can lean against it.” 

She pulled the furs down to Clarke’s ankles, remembering too late that Clarke was almost entirely naked. She jerked her head up to stare at the ceiling of the tent, mentally cursing herself. She could feel the heat crawling up her neck, and blossoming across her cheeks, and she was sure even her ears had turned red. 

“I...um...I didn’t meant...I mean…” she huffed in exasperation at her own stumbling words, but when she heard the slight giggle, her head whipped around, her eyes meeting Clarke’s laughing blue. 

“It’s ok, Lexa.” Clarke gave a little half shrug, too tired and in too much pain to care about how naked she was. Besides, it seemed that being naked had the advantage of stripping the aloof Heda of her mask, of making her seem more like a girl, and not a leader responsible for thousands of lives. 

“You’re blushing,” she helpfully pointed out, chuckling again as Lexa fixed her with a pointed glare.  

“No, I’m not. It’s just warm in here,” muttered Lexa as she scowled at the younger girl, feeling more than a little discombobulated in the face of Clarke’s light giggles and naked breasts. Lexa kept twitching her head, and she couldn’t help it as she fought to keep her eyes from straying. She didn’t know whether she should pray to the gods to magically cover Clarke’s body, or if she should give in and let her gaze drink her fill of the beautiful girl, no...beautiful woman who lay in front of her. 

Clarke cocked her head to the side, letting her gaze rove over Lexa’s face, while the older girl squirmed slightly under her gaze. It was a new side of Lexa she hadn’t seen before, this uncomfortable, almost vulnerable girl who clearly didn’t want to do or say anything inappropriate, but also seemed to want to give in to her desire to look, to touch.

“It’s cute.” She chuckled again at Lexa’s incredulous stare and then snort of irritation. She hadn’t realized just how easy it was to get under Lexa’s skin, although she suspected that maybe it was just her, just she who had the ability to turn the Heda into a fussy mess of a girl with a love too large to hold. 

“It’s not cute,” muttered Lexa, almost petulantly. 

“Fine. It’s charming,” Clarke husked, smiling when she saw Lexa stop fidgeting. 

“Charming?” Lexa cocked her head, suddenly more interested in what Clarke meant. 

“Sha. Charming.” Clarke waved her hand at Lexa, wincing at the flash of pain that scraped along her ribs. 

“Fuck.” 

Lexa jumped slightly, quickly bending down to help Clarke, forgetting everything else but helping Clarke. “No moving unless you absolutely have to. And no more laughing. That couldn’t have helped,” she smirked. 

Clarke rolled her eyes, “you’re just happy I’m not going to tease you anymore,” she muttered, her voice husky, almost rough. She yawned, wincing as she inhaled sharply. 

“Getting shot sucks,” she muttered as she looked up at Lexa, and the brunette could do nothing but nod in agreement. 

“Come on, you need to sit up, it will help stretch your muscles a little, and get your blood pumping.” She slipped her arm around her waist, carefully to avoid pressing against the wound along her ribs. She slid her other arm under Clarke’s knees, and started to lift, but stopped when she felt Clarke shift suddenly in her arms. “No, it’s ok. Let me do all the work, ok?” And when Clarke mutely nodded, she gently picked her up, and resettled her against the headboard in a reclining position. 

Once Clarke was settled against the furs and headboard, Lexa started to slide her arms out from under Clarke, only to stop when she felt a warm hand against her neck. She froze, her eyes wide as she turned to look at Clarke, suddenly hyper aware of of the girl’s soft, naked curves pressing into her arm, her breath lightly buffeting the skin of her cheek, the gentle curl of her fingers against the sensitive skin of Lexa’s neck. 

She swallowed hard, her gaze falling to Clarke’s lips, mesmerized by the pink tongue that flicked out and licked them, leaving a light shine behind. She leaned down instinctively, unaware of her own movement, and it wasn’t until she saw Clarke’s blue eyes darken like the sea in a summer storm that she realized what she was doing. She stiffened and jerked her head, regret filling her chest as she felt Clarke’s hand fall from her neck. 

She pulled back as quickly as she could, trying not to jostle Clarke. She could feel the red staining her cheeks, and she busied herself with pulling the furs back up Clarke’s legs and tucking them around her waist. Once finished, she reluctantly turned her attention back to Clarke, too aware that her cheeks still felt a little warm. 

“Are you hungry?” she asked hoarsely, still slightly shaken by what she had almost done, by what she had wanted to do. And while she knew Anya would not have cared, they hadn’t spoken to Clarke about how they felt, about what they wanted. And who was to say that Clarke felt the same way, that Clarke would want them both. Perhaps she only wanted Anya. Lexa felt her heart clench and her throat tighten at the thought. 

“Yes.” 

She was abruptly shaken from her thoughts, and she looked up at Clarke in confusion, her mind stumbling as she tried to remember what the question had been. But the moment she heard the rumble from beneath the furs, she smiled. 

“I can hear,” she chuckled at Clarke’s blushing face. “Let me call for Alira to get you some of Nyko’s broth and bread.” She pulled herself to her feet, quickly leaving the bed chamber calling for the young handmaidens. 

Clarke leaned her head back on the furs, the pain in her shoulder throbbing and the wound along her ribs burning, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been a few moments ago. She picked at the fur around her waist, idly wondering what animal it had come from, who had hunted it, had it been a gift; anything to keep her mind from the one burning question that she was afraid to have answered. 

_ Sharp staccato sounds. _

_ Pain. Burning.  _

_ Dirt in her mouth. _

_ Arms wrapping around her and yanking her into the air. _

_ Yelling in Trig. _

_ Abby.  _

_ Abby running.  _

_ Abby screaming for Clarke.  _

_ Two more shots. _

_ Abby falling. _

She wasn’t even aware of the tears dripping down her cheeks until she felt warm fingers brushing them away, and a voice murmuring gentle words in Trig in her ear. She turned her face, burying it in Lexa’s warm neck, not caring about the snot and tears she smeared across Lexa’s neck, as her shoulders shook with her rasping sobs. 

Lexa sat on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding too fast to be easily passed off as anything but fear and worry. She cringed slightly when she felt Clarke press her wet, sticky face in her neck, unused to the feeling of another’s grief painting her skin so boldly. But she wrapped her arm loosely around Clarke’s waist, pulling her gently into her own body. She cupped Clarke’s head, her fingers whispering through Clarke’s hair. She held her for long moments, whispering quiet words that meant nothing to Clarke, but soon the younger girl’s broken sobs petered out roughly, with the occasional gasp.  

Clarke slumped against Lexa, finally turning her face from the crook of her neck, reluctant to give up her damp, hiding place, but needing to breathe. “My mother…” she whispered, the words falling brokenly from her lips. 

Lexa closed her eyes briefly, her fears confirmed that the woman who had run from the gates screaming for Clarke had been her mother. Her scouts hadn’t been able to ascertain if the woman still lived, and she was unsure what to tell Clarke. 

“Do you know...is she…” Clarke sobbed again, her head slipping to Lexa’s chest, as she curled her body around itself, fear and grief buffeting her on all sides. 

“I’m sorry, Clarke. We don’t know yet.” She adjusted her hold on Clarke, slipping her arm under Clarke’s legs and carefully pulling her fully into her lap. She grabbed the fur, wrapping it around Clarke as she managed to scoot back further on the bed. She rubbed Clarke’s back, slightly surprised at how natural the need to comfort the girl came to her. 

“My scouts are utilizing the hawks to send us messages every few hours. And the scouts report that the Skaikru camp has been locked down. No one has gone beyond the gates.” She hesitated for a moment, wondering how much she should burden Clarke with, not wanting to lie, but wanting to spare her the worry of what might come. 

“Tell me,” Clarke whispered. “I need to know.” She felt Lexa nod, and she raised her hand, wrapping it in Lexa’s shirt, needing to feel anchored. She let her head relax against Lexa’s chest. She felt a strange comfort in the solid flesh beneath her cheek, the gentle reverberation of each heart beat. 

“They have posted more guards on the walls. They carry guns, like the maunon.” She spit the last word out with as much venom as she could muster, as if the word itself defiled her very tongue to speak it. “They have moved the children into the large metal structure.” 

“They are preparing for an attack,” murmured Clarke. She took a deep breath, her heart in her throat, fear lacing each word; “Are you going to  war?”  She already knew the answer, having accidentally eavesdropped on Lexa’s meeting with the Ambassadors, but she wanted to hear it directly from the Commander’s lips, and stare into the brunette’s eyes as she repeated the words. Clarke wanted to believe that what she’d overheard was true, and that perhaps there was still a chance for her people, and yet there was a part of her that could not blame those that cried for war among the grounders. 

Lexa said nothing for long moments, knowing that her next words would decide the fate of the Skaikru and possibly Clarke. Anya had asked the same question, her ambassadors had asked the same question, and she hadn’t been able to give them a good answer.  _ Was she going to wage war on the Skaikru  _ _ in the end _ _? Would she really wage war on Clarke’s people?  _

“Fighting a war on two fronts is not wise.” She felt Clarke stiffen and shift in her arms as she repeated the words that Linnea had thrown in the Azgeda envoy’s face . It wasn’t the answer the blonde was looking for, it wasn’t the honest answer. 

“I do not know,” she admitted quietly. “It is true though, fighting both the Skaikru and the Mountain will only end in many deaths. I am afraid that we need your people to defeat The Mountain,” she sighed heavily, “but my people want recompense for Malcolm's death, for being fired upon under a white flag.”

She looked down at Clarke, nudging the blonde’s head with her nose until she looked up at her. “Is not the white flag a universal sign of peace?” 

Clarke’s eyes filled with tears again, and she nodded slowly, her heart heavy. “So what will you do?” 

“I have ordered a blockade. My warriors will keep your people within a two mile radius of their camp. They can go outside the gates and gather food and wood, but nothing more until we decide how to proceed. If they go beyond the blockade, their lives are forfeit.” 

“But they don’t know that!” She protested, as she pushed against Lexa’s chest, frustration and fear giving her strength as she pushed Lexa away. 

“Stop, Clarke, you will hurt yourself.” Lexa pulled her back into her arms, tucking her under her chin. “Your people will know very soon. We are sending a written message.” 

“How?”

“It is tied to an arrow that will be shot over the gates into the camp. It explains in detail where the boundary of the blockade is. They have been told to send their leader and the  guards of his choosing to a designated spot to meet and discuss what has happened. The guards who shot you...their lives are forfeit, Clarke. If your people accept those terms, we might still be able to have an alliance.”

Clarke nodded wearily as she stopped fighting Lexa’s hold. It was fair. It was more than fair. 

Neither said anything else for long moments, until Lexa finally, reluctantly leaned back enough to carefully guide Clarke away from her chest. “You are exhausted, Clarke. You need to rest. But you need to eat first.” 

It took some clever maneuvering but she was able to shift Clarke back onto the bed, helping her sit up against the furs, just enough so she could eat. Lexa put the bowl in her hands, and watched carefully as Clarke tried to feed herself, but her hand shook, the spoon clattering harshly against the metal of the bowl. 

The sound was sharp. Loud. And CLarke gasped, her mouth falling open, her heart ricocheting violently in her chest. Her hands shook, and the soup sloshed as her eyes widened in panic. But before the bowl tumbled from her hands, she felt strong fingers cradle her own, helping her hold the bowl. 

“It’s ok. Let me.” Lexa carefully pulled the bowl out of Clarke’s hands and set it down on her own lap. She fiddled with spoon for a moment, stirring the broth giving Clarke a moment to compose herself. She held the bowl up to her, and dipped the spoon in before raising it to Clarke’s lips. 

It was awkward at first. Clumsy. And the spoon scraped the bowl a little too roughly when Lexa’s hand shook from nerves. Lexa had never fed anyone before, but there was something comforting in the simple act of dipping the spoon into the bowl and then raising it to Clarke’s lips. She learned quickly to only fill the spoon half-way, otherwise the broth would spill and dribble down Clarke’s chin. Her cheeks had burned the first time she apologized, her fingers fumbling as she tried to balance the bowl and spoon in her hands, while trying to wipe Clarke’s chin. She had ended up using her shirt sleeve, wincing as she patted Clarke’s chin dry. 

But it wasn’t long before Clarke shook her head, her brow furrowed, her eyes drooping closed. Lexa looked into the bowl, sighing when she realized that it was still half-full. But she set it aside, grabbing the chunk of soft bread. She tore off a piece, holding it to Clarke’s lips. 

“Clarke, please eat some of it.” But Clarke shook her head, her eyes closed, her breathing a little too shallow for Lexa’s liking. 

She pressed the bread to Clarke’s lips, the unspoken plea, refused again. She sighed in frustration, “As your Heda, I order you to eat this.” 

Clarke chuckled under her breath, still not opening her eyes. “You aren’t my Heda,” she muttered. 

“Please, Clarke. Just one piece, and then you can sleep.” 

Clarke opened her eyes slowly, wincing at how scratchy they suddenly felt. Her muscles ached, and when she raised her hand to push Lexa away, it fell back to the bed with a thump. “Wha-what did you do?” Her words were slurred, and the edges of her vision blurred. 

Lexa pulled back with a frown, “Clarke?” She growled when the blonde didn’t answer, and she dropped the bread before grabbing the bowl again. She stirred the contents, noticing the bits of green herbs swirling to the top. She sniffed the bowl, grunting when she recognized the smell. She set it back down before standing up. She should have known Nyko would have added something extra to the broth.

“It’s ok, Clarke. It is a sleeping herb, it will also help dull your pain. It was in the broth. I’m sorry, I didn’t know that Nyko had been put in it, or I would have told you.” She carefully slid her arms under Clarke, shuffling her down the bed again, so she lay flat. She pulled the furs up, carefully tucking them around her. She pushed Clarke’s hair back from her face, letting her thumb caress the smooth skin of her forehead. It was warm, but not too warm. She smiled in relief. 

“My…”

“What, Clarke?” Lexa leaned over Clarke, tilting her head to hear her better.

“Not...not my He-Heda,” murmured Clarke sleepily, “my Lexa.” She sighed, her breath evening out, sleep claiming her. 

Lexa sat there stunned, her cheeks burning, her heart thumping too loudly. She bit her lip, before leaning the last few inches and pressing her lips lightly to Clarke’s forehead. “Sleep, my Klark. Sleep.” 

************************

Getting the guns from the armory had been the easiest part. He’d rattled off a spiel about needing more rifles on the watchtower in case more of “the savages” showed up and the officer, luckily not a veteran, had handed him what he asked without questions. 

The Guard had a bleak reputation, one of which Bellamy knew first hand, and even though a youth with a big bundle under one arm could certainly be counted as a weird sight, the jacket he wore ensured that none of the people he passed gave him more than a hurried glance. 

Several groups of people huddled in corners, whispering quietly, and he gathered a fair amount of dark looks. They were not really directed at him though, but rather at what he represented. Bellamy grimaced, shifting his burden from one arm to the other. He could understand their nervousness and distrust, their fear. Their chief medical officer had been shot by Skaikru’s own guns, they didn’t know if more people would show up at the gates… Bellamy had heard all sorts of rumors about that already. Some said there was an army of grounders out for blood in the forest around the camp, and he’d heard a few claim that they had taken the kids at the Dropship in order to eat them. 

It was a wonder Kane had managed to hide the fact the Guards had shot peace envoys by accident. If the truth of what had happened came to light, the new Chancellor might find himself with a full scale riot on his hands.  

For all he knew they may already be at war.

Bellamy sighed and hurried along, taking the corridor that would bring him outside and towards the back of the camp. That was when he caught sight of Jackson walking briskly out of the medical wing, pale and struggling to keep his composure. Bellamy quickly looked away, but he hadn’t missed the haunted look on the doctor’s face and his stomach flipped sickeningly at what it may mean.

There was nothing he could do, except get himself in trouble, and he had dallied long enough. If he didn’t get moving, he would not make it to the rendezvous point in time. 

Outside the camp’s activities were slowing down as evening descended. The communal bonfires had been lit and people were gathering around them to chat about their days before heading to the mess hall. Bellamy saw a group of Guards move towards the wall as he ducked between two shacks and knew that the change of shift was imminent. 

Octavia and Raven were already waiting for him next to the electrified fence, crouching together and trying to look inconspicuous. 

“You two totally don’t look like you are planning a breakout,” he teased in greeting, hoping to ease the tension that had placed an unreachable itch between his shoulder blades. 

“Abby’s dead.” Raven’s voice rang hollow and the smile Bellamy had forced on his lips died away. 

He wanted to ask how they knew, but Octavia spoke up before he could. 

“Raven overheard one of the Guards talking about it. The guy had been on duty at the med bay doors.” It made sense that word would spread quickly, Bellamy thought, the camp was not that big and news like these had a way of going around like wildfire once the spark was started. Even now as he peeked through the  shacks they crouched behind, he could see a steady stream of people make their way to the main camp structure where Kane had appeared flanked by Byrne and another officer. 

“We gotta go,” he hissed, turning his attention towards the fence, “we can use it as a distraction to slip away unnoticed.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he winced and Raven shot him a disgusted look. It was true though, if Kane planned to address the camp it would give them the perfect opportunity to get away undetected. 

“Is this thing off?” 

“Any moment now,” Raven muttered, glancing at the sky. The cusps of the setting sun barely grazed the treetops and evening shadows had already stretched across the open field. As if on cue, the humming of power that had made the air ripple slightly around the fence died with a stutter, and Bellamy worked his jaw, testing the absence of the pressure that had made his teeth ache. 

“Let’s go!” 

Octavia lifted the wire out of the way and slithered through, dragging a bag of supplies. Raven went second, another backpack slung across her back and then it was his turn. Bellamy thrust the bundle with the guns in his sister’s arms first, then wiggled through the wires. 

They helped Raven up between them, and started off towards the treeline, using the shade and bushes as cover. Still, Bellamy could not help but check the nearest watchtower every couple of paces, shoulders hunched and and back rigid with tension, like his body already expected bullets to rip through him. 

“This way,” Raven urged, making their path curve gently to the north. 

“That’s not where those people came from!” he hissed, tugging at her sleeve with urgency.

“Just, for once, trust me ok?” 

He grumbled unhappily under his breath, but nodded and followed the two girls in silence. 

Raven was relieved. When Bellamy had plucked at her sleeve and protested, she’d thought he meant to argue. The mechanic was painfully conscious of the walls still looming behind them, and she felt droplets of sweat ran down the back of her neck at the thought they would most likely be shot if they were spotted. 

The muscles in her leg burned and clenched with every step, and Raven knew she would never be able to cover long distances even if the brace that Wick had built for her did help. She smiled as they moved under the trees and relaxed slightly, following the discreet markings she and Monty had carved at the base of certain trees. Soon enough what she was looking for came into view, nothing more than a mound of branches and dirt for someone that didn't know what to look for. 

“Help me out,” she instructed the others, shifting branches out of the way. They obeyed without speaking, puzzlement clear on their faces, and when the thing she had hidden came into view, Octavia swore softly, staring at the older girl in awe.

“Fuck... _ wow _ !”, the brunette removed the last few branches eagerly, “is this what I think it is?” 

“Solar powered ATV,” Raven patted the vehicle affectionately, “me and Monty had a baby.” 

“A… You mean you built it?” 

“From scrap and stolen bits of the dropship,” Raven puffed her chest out proudly, “it’s got a battery and the sun recharges it, so we can use it at night too.” 

She noticed that Wick had attached a small metal cart to the rear of the vehicle, so that all of them could travel on it. There were blanket rolls and bags of rations too. She had mentioned to him that they didn’t know exactly where to go, or when they would be back, and he must have added more supplies than they could bring out themselves.

“You built it with Monty?” Bellamy’s face was stuck halfway between annoyance and admiration, “when?” 

“ Monty found the body, and some spare parts in an old bunker. We took it apart and moved it out of the bunker into an old cave near the Dropship. We started stripping the electronics on the Dropship, and we found other parts that we jury-rigged to make them work. Wick finished it with some parts we got from the Ark,” Raven shrugged, “there was so much scrap laying around that nobody thought to use…” She trailed off and shrugged, slinging her good leg over the seat. “What?” she asked when she saw he wasn’t moving. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He sounded offended, and she thought he probably was. 

Octavia snorted and, since her brother wasn’t moving, she took the seat right behind Raven, putting an arm around the mechanic’s waist.

“You’d have probably driven it over a cliff,” Raven smiled sweetly as he sputtered, then jerked her chin towards the cart in the back, “well? You coming?” 

He placed the guns he had been carrying into the metal cart, loading one and sitting down with all the grace of a pouting child. 

“Tin can,” he grunted in her direction when she laughed.

“Asshole.” 

Raven turned the ATV’s key in the ignition and the vehicle came to life with a soft purr. If Bellamy thought jabs about her leg would bother her, it was because he didn’t have to grow up with an alcoholic mother. He’d have to do way better than that to truly hurt her.

*******************

Je’saris crouched low, well concealed behind a tree trunk, watching the Skaikru crash along the narrow trail with narrowed eyes. They were yongons, all three of them of them about Klark’s age. At the thought of the girl’s bloodied body slumped in Anya’s arms, she sneered and felt her blood boil. 

She had taken out most of her anger in the training pits, but as she saw the young man brandish a hated Maunon weapon, Je’saris itched to aim her bow and pick them off, one by one. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder and cast a glance at Linnea, who knelt next to her, eyes never leaving the youths on the path. 

“What do we do?” The General asked softly, jerking her chin towards the three. Je’saris pursed her lips, different plans whizzing through her head. The warrior had to admit she was still trying to get over the fact that one of the Coalition’s Generals had not only volunteered for a patrol with them, but readily agreed to be under her command. Linnea wasn’t Trikru, but from the growled rants she had gotten out of Anya, the raven haired woman seemed to have taken quite the interest in Clarke. 

Perhaps she felt as slighted by the Skaikru’s betrayal as they all did, but maybe there were also other reasons. The Smoky Mountain Clan was famous for their fierce, bear-hunting warriors, but their traders were as tenacious, often exploring new routes before the other clans even thought about it.

“I’d like nothing more than to kill them all.” She admitted finally, hand going to the full quiver at her waist. 

Linnea said nothing, simply watching the boy and one of the girls get off their metal contraption and free a wheel that had gotten stuck on a gnarled root. The General had seen things like that before, abandoned and rusted over among crumbling ruins. But she had never seen one functioning, and it fascinated her. She saw possibility in Skaikru, despite having supported the calls for war. They had things that the tribes lacked and vice versa, and it was a shame that it looked like everything would end in blood. 

Linnea had been only a day’s ride from Tondisi when word of the attack on the peace delegation had reached her, and she thanked the Spirits a particularly stubborn trader from the Horse Clan had been holding her up.

She had rushed back, heart in her throat at the thought that Clarke could be dead, and joined readily in crying for war, blood up at the sight of the dead and injured. Yet the words she had spoken at the war council still held true, Trikru was a powerful clan and the Coalition could easily dispose of one of their enemies...  but attacking the Maunon and Skai People at the same time would be madness and result in a loss of life that the Commander could not lightly dismiss.  

Linus had crept up behind them and, judging from his own remark, had heard Je’saris’ words.

“We should kill them. They are way past the blockade.” He chewed the words out.

Linnea clicked her tongue in disagreement. “A blockade that is still being established. A blockade these... _ pups… _ may not even know about.” 

“So?” Linus’ voice was a hiss lost in the sounds of the forest, “these people have no honor. Who cares if they don’t know of the blockade? Heda’s orders are clear.” 

“Just because they have no honor, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t act with honor.” Je’saris intervened, effectively ending the discussion. The Skai boy had managed to free their vehicle’s wheel, and was clambering into the cart attached to the back.

The wind changed direction and carried the youths’ voices over to them.

“Move Bellamy!” one of the girls was calling, clearly annoyed, “we need to find a place to stop for the night and figure out how to track Clarke down.”  

“ _ If _ it was really her,” the young man grumbled, hurrying to obey nevertheless.

The one girl that had kept quiet started their vehicle slowly forward, the path too narrow and impervious to proceed with much speed. 

“This settles it,” Je’saris stated, sitting back on her haunches,”we shadow them and take them in. They will make valuable hostages if they know Clarke.”

She raised a hand, signalling Thany and Angus, who had been laying low on the other side of the path and they quickly joined them. 

“You all know of the place called Black Gorge?” It was a deep ravine, its sides blackened as if burned, but smooth as glass. The others nodded and she continued, “this path leads through it. A good place for an ambush.” 

Angus drew quickly on the dirt between them with a thick finger. 

“The path is even narrower there. We can lay a trunk across to stop their...their...thing.” 

“You, Linus and Linnea go ahead. Place the trunk and wait for us. We will shadow them. When they dismount to move the trunk that’s when we will trap them.” Je’saris ordered.

The three she had named ran off quickly, as quietly as the wisps that lived inside the oldest trees and vanished as if the forest had swallowed them whole.

Je’saris stood slowly, taking time to check her gear. She was not worried about losing the Skayons. They were leaving tracks so obvious on the soft soil, that even a Trikru child could follow them.

“He has a gun.” Thany said quietly beside her. 

“It’s one against five. If he is stupid enough to try something we will kill him.” Je’saris tried to sound confident, but her stomach was in knots. She remembered the bullet that had whistled right next to her ear, the horses rearing up in fright. Thany’s dark frown told her the other warrior was having similar thoughts.

She hoped these Skai yongons would be smarter than the ones they had placed on their walls, and yet wished the boy would give her an excuse to spill some blood for Malcolm. And for Clarke.

***************************

Next time she woke, it wasn’t simple. Clarke didn’t jolt awake, thrown back into reality by visions of her mother falling inexorably to the ground. And yet it wasn’t the delicate way one usually woke after a good night of rest. 

She clawed to consciousness, jaw clenched and muscles spasming with the effort, every breath she heaved sluggish as if it took longer than normal for air to reach her lungs. She had been drugged before and knew the symptoms, but sweat was clinging to her brow and dampening her hair by the time she managed to force her eyes open. 

Clarke dimly remembered Lexa apologizing for what had been put in the broth, and it didn’t take much of a mental leap to imagine that Nyko had gone behind Heda’s back and decided that slipping the herbs in his patient’s food was for the best. She had to admit that she felt better, the burning in her side and shoulder dulled to more than bearable levels. Her mouth was a different matter altogether, a foul aftertaste coating her tongue. 

“Ugh,” she managed to croak out weakly, “does he do it on purpose?” 

None of the medicines her mother had given her over the years had ever tasted so bitter. As thoughts of Abby flitted through her mind she felt grief sink sharp teeth into her heart. She didn’t know what had happened to her mother yet, but it looked like her heart was preparing itself for an unavoidable blow. 

“Klark.” 

Anya and Lexa crowded at one side of the bed, and when she weakly pushed onto an elbow, Lexa rolled up a pelt much like she had done before, while Anya’s arm slipped around her waist, taking the blonde’s weight off her and propping her up against the headboard. 

Clarke cleared her throat a few times, grimacing around the bitterness that clung to her teeth and, when Lexa offered her a cup of water, she readily accepted. Her hands were not shaking as badly as they had before, and she managed to bring the mug to her lips without help.

Clarke took a few sips, careful not to drink too fast, and she and Lexa exchanged a smile when the Commander took back the cup. 

“You feel better.” It was more a statement than a question.

“Yes,” Clarke nodded, “but I have words for Nyko about whatever...whatever he slipped in the broth.” 

“You can tell me directly,” the healer himself called from behind the curtain closing the bedchamber off, “Heda, I have come check on my patient, if I may?” 

“Sha Nikou,” Lexa and Anya exchanged an amused look, earning an eyeroll from Clarke. The blonde huffed, squirming under the furs. If they had been doused with something so gut wrenching, they would not find it all that amusing, she was certain.

“How long have I been sleeping?” She asked as the healer ducked through the flaps and busied himself with laying out fresh bandages and poultices on the table. She guessed that night had fallen, because neither Lexa nor Anya were wearing their armor and weapons.  Their hair was partially out of their braids, flowing around their shoulders. They looked gentler this way, dressed in soft trousers and flowing tunics, more women than ruthless warriors. Avatars of something other than war.  But for all their seeming softness, they moved with a natural grace that did nothing to hide the long lines of their muscles, the confidence of each step. The predator was still the predator even when her hair was down, and she wore a shirt trimmed with lace. 

Clarke had almost always seen them shielded behind armor and warpaint, and it set them apart from others, especially Lexa. But even in Anya, Clarke could detect traces of the divine, remnants the savage goddesses of warfare that people revered in ancient time. The Morrigan she had read of with her father, or the legendary Valkyries of the far North. 

But out of their armor, which was the tangible sign of the rank they held among the grounders, they felt more approachable, not defenceless or tame, but less intimidating. She wondered idly how she would look, body shielded behind leather and metal and face smeared for war. 

“A whole day and then some,” Anya replied, smiling. She stood with one hip pressed to the side of the table and watched Nyko mix different herbs inside a mortar. Clarke saw him add water and then he walked to her, holding the cup out. 

“Drink this,” he handed the cup to her, “it will clear your head.” 

“Are you sure?” Clarke sniffed at the liquid suspiciously, “it won’t knock me out for, say, a week?” 

Lexa cleared her throat at that, shuffling forward. It did bother her that Nyko had given Clarke something before discussing it with her. She trusted the healer with her life, but also remembered how her heart had jerked inside her chest when the blonde had fallen unconscious so suddenly, thoughts immediately going to poison. She wouldn’t and couldn’t put it past some of the Ambassadors to try.

“I’m positive,” Nyko grunted, looking offended. The Commander reached out, placing a hand on his forearm. 

“I would like to know beforehand next time you slip something to my...my…” she bit her tongue, when the words _Klark, my Klark_ almost tumbled out of her mouth, and had to avert her gaze, a fierce blush staining her cheeks. 

“Guest?” Anya supplied helpfully. 

Lexa nodded gracefully, but scowled when she saw the General’s toothy grin. The light that danced in Anya’s eyes suggested that she knew exactly what Lexa had been about to say. 

“Of course, Heda” Nyko inclined his head, then without adding more, he pulled down the furs, exposing Clarke’s nakedness for all to see. 

The blonde didn’t seem affected, but for Lexa suddenly there was nowhere safe left to look. She felt vindicated when she glanced at Anya and found the General much in the same state. They gazed at each other, and Lexa didn’t doubt that the touches of red spraying Anya’s high cheekbones were mirrored on her own face. She quickly strode to the table, filling a cup with water to the brim then downing it in one long swallow. It didn’t help any.

Clarke watched Lexa’s frantic maneuvering with amusement, a grin tugging at her lips. She expected Anya to react better, since she had helped her with the ointment in less than innocent places, but the General pointedly looked at her feet and the blonde saw her jaw flex as she chewed the inside of her cheek. Her fingers ached to stroke Anya’s cheeks, cup her face and map it out with gentle touches, and she yearned to do the same with Lexa. 

Suddenly her own face was burning so badly she didn’t even hiss when Nyko’s fingers probed the wound at her side. Still, she couldn’t resist some teasing, perhaps to hide her own embarrassment.

“You can look you know,” the hoarseness of her voice betrayed her, “you’ve seen what there is to see already.” 

Nyko snorted, smiling into his beard, then replaced the bandages and checked her shoulder quickly, before stepping back. 

“I will take the stitches out in two or three days. You can give her something more substantial to eat.” When none of them replied, almost looking like they hadn’t heard, he shuffled awkwardly in place then muttered, “I will go and leave you to….uh… to… uh. Yes.” He nodded to himself and bowed his way out of the bedchamber, gathering his things as he went.

“So…” Clarke was the first one to break the silence, fingers fretting over the pelts, “I… wanted to talk about something.”

Anya watched the blonde shift against the bed’s headboard, hands plucking nervously at the furs Nyko had thankfully pulled back up enough to hide her breasts. The General was grateful that only a few candles lit the room, to better mask her blushes and the obvious stir between her legs. 

Clarke’s eyes were pools of dark stillwater in the low light, seemingly ready to devour her and Anya had to look away, swallowing harshly, mouth drained of moisture. 

“What is it?” Lexa sat on the edge of the bed, worry plastered on her face. 

“I…” Now that she was about to address half-heard words that had been gnawing at her mind for some time, Clarke felt courage falter. She flicked her tongue over her lips, keenly aware of Lexa’s eyes widening slightly at the gesture, then darkening with something that the blonde could only describe as desire. 

“I...I heard…that...uh…” Clarke hated herself for stuttering, despised the knots that had sprouted along her tongue, tripping her words on the way out. She took a deep breath that did nothing to calm her racing heart, and made her side ache. 

“I heard you both talk about...about... _ us _ ” She gestured feebly to the space between them, giving a helpless shrug. How else to put it really? 

“I am going to get you some food,” Anya stammered hurriedly, leaving her half-perch on the table and moving towards the bedroom’s entrance. 

“You are doing nothing of the sort!”

Lexa’s hand shot out, grabbing the General’s wrist and pulling her back so hard that Anya tottered, before plopping down gracelessly next to the Commander. An inch more and she would have ended on Lexa’s lap.

“What did you hear exactly?” Lexa asked, fighting to keep her voice even, as Anya spluttered indignantly. 

“I…” Clarke paused trying to gather her thoughts and Anya steamrolled over both of them, a string of jumbled explanations filling the small space.

“We didn’t mean...Clarke... We were…” 

“Oh Anya, for Spirits’ sake! Let her talk” Lexa elbowed the General hard in the ribs, and Anya cut short with a grunt.  She supposed it was unlike her to be so bold, to be the one ready to hear what Clarke had to say. But somewhere between the time Clarke had stood at the whipping post, and when she’d whispered “my Lexa,” hope had flickered to life within Lexa. 

“Let her talk,” Lexa repeated quietly, nodding to Clarke to continue. Suddenly their full attention was on her, and Clarke squirmed. Perhaps this hadn’t been the smartest idea. 

“I...yes, right.” She became aware that she was chewing her lower lip only when Anya gasped softly, eyes glued to her face. They all blushed, the air between them heavy with so much promise it was almost electric. 

“I want you,” Clarke forced herself to meet Anya’s gaze, despite the quaking of her heart threatening to shatter her bones into dust, “and you.” She added just as Lexa’s face began to fill with sadness. 

The blonde shrugged. 

“Maybe I am being greedy. But there is something in you...both of you...when I look at you...you do nothing, but you make it hard to breathe.” She felt it then, the familiar tugging in her chest. There was something in both of the women sitting next to her that reached deep inside her and moved her, pulled forth the most secret of her desires. And Clarke thought that she would follow them endlessly if necessary because, much like the ocean’s tide, eternally ensnared by the changing moon, she had no choice in the matter. Lexa and Anya had broken havoc inside her heart, they had inflicted on her a natural disaster, and she’d be damned if she didn’t try to get them to fix it. 

“I am tired of just surviving,” her hands that had been nervously playing with the furs, but steady so far began to shake, and bitter tears stung her eyes. Clarke lifted a hand and pressed it to her wounded shoulder with a grimace, “I want to  _ live _ .  Shouldn’t life be about more than just surviving? ”

She was proud of herself for not letting out the sobs she felt storming her lungs, but the tears fell and she could not help them. Clarke didn’t know if it was pain, or grief, but there was a clear measure of relief in the downpour wetting her cheeks. 

Anya recognized the catharsis of the tears, remembered those long nights when Lexa had shredded pillows with her teeth because of the storms raging in her chest. But eventually Lexa’s tears had changed, the harsh grief replaced by the physical need to simply be done with the tumultuous tempests of emotions, and she simply needed to bleed off the rest of herself in the quiet solitude of Anya’s arms. And somewhere, somehow, as the days continued, and the quiet solitude became a lover’s haven.  

Anya glanced up at Lexa, reading her lover’s face instantly, knowing that Lexa also remembered those nights. And when Lexa took her hand and squeezed it, she knew it was the thank you that Lexa had never been able to articulate. 

Lexa rubbed her thumb across the inside of Anya’s wrist, remembering how she had eventually found peace in Anya’s arms. The nightmares eventually became fewer, and she tossed and turned less in the bed that still had felt far too large without Costia. And she had cried less, instead spending her nights in Anya’s arms, grateful that Anya had never left her, had always been her constant. Ever since that day, when Anya had stood before the newly arrived natblidas, eyeing each trembling child in turn, her gaze harsh and heavy, kohl dripping down her face. And only Lexa had dared meet her eye, despite being the smallest of them all. 

_ This one.  _ Two words was all it had been, but Anya had probably never uttered more important words to Lexa.  _ This one.  _ And Anya had never left her side since. And she had never left Anya’s. 

Lexa nodded slowly, thoughtfully. She knew Anya was ready, was just waiting for Lexa to take that first step. Her decision made. She stood and walked to the other side of the bed, slipping her boots off. She kicked them to the corner, and sat on the bed, swinging her legs up to lay next to Clarke. She let her head rest on the pillow, her nose scraping Clarke’s ear. She raised her hand to Anya without looking, and when Anya grabbed it, she smiled, steadying the other woman as she too climbed into the bed, on the other side of Clarke. 

_ This one.  _

_ This one. _

Arms wrapped hesitantly around her, and Clarke felt the bed dip and shift as Anya and Lexa climbed on either side of her. They laid on either side over the furs, and she felt fingers twist softly through her hair, words murmured in her ear. Trig was too new for her to understand, but she felt reassured by the warmth of the women pressing close to her. 

“Stay?” Clarke hated that it sounded like begging, and as she opened her eyes to see them stare back, cheeks burning, she added, “to sleep! God...I swear that’s all I meant!” 

For now. 

_ This one. _

Anya gave a quiet guffaw, and her shoulders shook with rippling laughter. The bubble of tension that had seemingly encased them, burst with the sound and they both snuggled close to Clarke, relishing the intimacy. 

“I have to say I missed sleeping on the bed.” She murmured, nosing into Clarke’s hair and inhaling deeply. She had wanted for this, dreamt of it, and now she couldn’t quite believe that it was happening. 

“That’s what happens when you grow old,” Lexa raised herself on an elbow to offer a mocking smile, “after a few days of sleeping on the floor, you get whiny.” 

They all laughed, Clarke wheezing a bit and shifting uncomfortably between them as her stitches pulled, until they all settled back. 

Anya felt her eyes begin to droop shut, and watched dreamily as Lexa’s fingers ghosted over the blonde’s cheek. 

_ This one.  _

“This feels…” the Commander paused at a loss for words.

“Right?” Clarke tried, and they murmured in agreement. “Although,” the blonde added with a playful smirk, “you are both way overdressed.” 

“Don’t push your luck, skai girl,” Anya grumbled, failing to conceal a smile when Clarke turned her head, burying her face against the General’s neck. The girl could play bold as you please, but her cheeks were almost scalding against Anya’s skin.

Lexa simply groaned and pressed her face into the pillow, hand searching until Anya reached out to grasp her fingers. They fell asleep like that, hands entwined over Clarke’s midriff, and Anya’s last thought was that having all of them in the same bed, in her arms, felt like home.

_ This one.  _

_ This one.  _

_ This one.  _

  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12 is slightly shorter than we had anticipated, but that is only because it was originally 13,000+ words, and we needed to make it into two chapters. On the bright side, chapter 13 is almost done, just need to write one more scene.

“Shit.” Raven hit the brakes hard, the ATV jolting to a sudden halt. They hadn’t been going that fast, but she heard Bellamy swear softly as he was bounced around in the attached cart. 

“Why are we stopping?” he called, “did we run out of juice?”

“Nu-uh,” Octavia let go of of Raven’s waist and clambered off her seat, “tree trunk.” They could barely see it in the weak glow of the headlights, but Raven was suddenly glad that the track they had been following had been too narrow and twisted for speeding. From the little she could see the trunk was big enough that not even a bigger vehicle could simply go over it. They would have ended up with a smashed ATV and injured if she had been going any faster. 

She heard Bellamy’s footsteps crunch softly on the trail’s gravel as he walked up to them, gun braced against his shoulder. 

“Can you turn the lights any higher?” He asked as he nosed cautiously forward, “it’s pitch black up ahead.” 

“Hold on.” Raven switched off the engine, directing the extra power to the headlights. Night became a bit brighter around them and she could see that the fallen tree blocked the path completely. There was no way for them to go around it or over, they would have to move it somehow.

“I told you we should have stopped like, two hours ago,” Octavia huffed, joining her brother who was staring at the obstacle, “we shouldn’t have entered the gorge at night. I can’t see a thing, let alone move a tree in this murk.” 

Raven had to agree, but Bellamy had been stubborn as if he thought they were going to find Clarke around the road’s next bend. She tuned out her bickering companions and turned her attention to the forest around them. She couldn’t really see the gorge’s walls, as the moon hadn’t risen yet, but she could feel them press around on all sides. The wind that had howled down the narrow canyon had died down and the few trees that grew along its steep sides had ceased their constant creaking. Raven missed the noise, the darkness around them far too quiet. 

She opened her mouth to point it out and a blade was suddenly pressed against her throat, strong, lean arms going around her as she let out a small gasp. 

“Hands up,” a feminine voice whispered in her ear, “tell your friends to turn around slowly and there will be no trouble.” The blade nicked encouragingly against her windpipe and Raven swallowed harshly.

“Uh...guys...we...have a problem…”

“Not now Raven, we’re trying-” Bellamy didn’t even turn, but Octavia did, and in that instant the shadows around the two of them came to life. Raven saw a short figure strike Octavia in the stomach, and a hulking one rip the gun out of Bellamy’s hands as he was tripped by a kick and crumbled to the ground.

The night filled with noise, grunts and scuffles, harsh words in a language Raven didn’t recognize, although some of them tickled at the edges of her mind. It all seemed to last forever, but it was over in a matter of seconds. 

The blade was removed and hands grabbed her under her armpits, dragging her off the ATV. She was thrown unceremoniously to the ground, falling down face-first, a handful of rotten leaves and dirt filling her gasping mouth.

Her leg gave a vicious throb as her hip smacked against a jutting rock and she screamed, the pain only increasing when someone straddled her legs, pinning her down and yanking her arms backwards. Coarse rope tightened around her wrists, her shoulder bent at an unnatural angle that made Raven tense and fight against the restraint. 

“Gyon op,” 

Raven tried to pull her knees under her, and push herself to her feet, but she couldn’t. She fell flat, her cheek scraping in the dirt, and she could tell it was bleeding before strong hands rolled her over and dragged her roughly to her feet. She stumbled and would have fallen if a hand hadn’t grabbed her by her bound wrists and jerked her back. 

She half-stood, partially bent over, as she tried to keep her weight off her leg. She could feel the blood dripping down her cheek, and her eyes clouded with tears. The pain in her leg was flaring along all of her nerves, and she bit down on her lower lip viciously in an effort not to cry. She choked, laughing roughly at the taste of copper in her mouth, as she spit a wad of blood and mucus into the dirt at her feet. 

“Please, we are just looking for our friend.” 

Raven almost snorted at the plea in Octavia’s voice. It was so unlike the angry, but self-assured young woman, but she could hear the pain and fear in her voice, and Raven realized belatedly that it was was fear for her, for Raven, and not for Octavia. 

Raven could hear them muttering in their own language, and she tried to concentrate on the words, in an effort to distract herself from the pain in her leg and cheek. Sometimes the words sounded familiar, and she was almost sure she could understand part of what they were saying, their words just on the tip of her own tongue. 

She heard the warrior grunt and yank on her arms, in the universal language of follow me. She stumbled, her weight crashing heavily into the warrior, and she was sure she heard the warrior swear under her breath before arms wrapped around her waist and set her back on her feet. 

“I’m sorry,” she choked out, her mouth dry, tongue too thick, “my leg. I can’t…” 

She felt a hand grab her thigh, and search along her leg, the warrior hissing when they felt the metal bands of her brace. More words were exchanged between the warriors before the one holding her huffed and pulled her towards the ATV. 

Raven blinked sharply as a torch suddenly passed in front of her face, and she reared back a little, startled to see the face looming in front of her. The warrior was tall and lean, her face painted in black and greens. Her dark hair was tied back in intricate braids Her. She had been sure the voice whispering threats in her ear had belonged to a woman, but visual confirmation had Raven sighing in relief, not knowing why she suddenly felt a little reassured of their predicament just because the warrior was a woman. 

The other warriors shoved Bellamy and Octavia forward, until the three of them were standing next to the ATV and wagon. The warriors held their torches high, and Raven could see them slightly better, although their faces were still partially hidden by dancing shadows. They all had paint on their faces, some wore masks made of bone and leather. But all looked angry, cold. All looked like warriors of death. 

One of the warriors stepped forward, another woman, with a mostly shaved head, except for the small mohawk running down the center of her head. She seemed like she might be the one in charge. She gestured towards the ATV and wagon, miming a gesture clearly meant to relay that the two should be separated. Bellamy grunted, stumbling forward, nodding his head. 

“I can separate them, but you have to untie my hands.” He held them up, and one of the other warriors, a slim man with a wolf’s face undid the ropes. Bellamy nodded, rubbing at his wrists, before unhooking the couplings. He pushed the wagon back, letting the hitch fall to the ground. 

More talking, and Bellamy and Octavia looked at each other cautiously, before the female warrior with the mohawk untied Octavia, and shoved both Bellamy and Octavia to the front of the wagon. She gestured for them to pick up the hitch, and once they had, she tied Octavia’s left  leg to Bellamy’s right leg, loose enough for them to walk, but too tight for one of them to try and escape without dragging the other with them. Simple, but effective.

Raven stared wide-eyed at them, realizing that they would pull the wagon, but before she could open her mouth to ask what was to be done with her, strong arms scooped her up into the air. She squealed, grabbing at the warrior’s armor, and before she could formulate any words, she was being carefully deposited into the back of the wagon. 

She was surprised at how gently the warrior had set her down, expecting to simply be tossed into the back. “Thank you,” she murmured, slowly releasing the front of the warrior’s armor. She was surprised to see the woman’s blue eyes widen slightly, before the warrior grunted and pulled away from her. 

The grounders fanned out around them, the lean man with the mannerism of a wolf stationing next to Bellamy and Octavia, watching their every move as they began to pull the cart. There were five of them in total, Raven noticed, three women and two men. And for some reason it was the women who looked towards them with the most heated looks, leering openly, especially at Bellamy. 

“Angus,” the female warrior with the mohawk, called the second man over and gave him curt orders, the words rolling off her tongue too fast for Raven to follow. The man nodded once and handed off the torch he had been carrying, vanishing swiftly into the night as if he’d never been there. 

Then the woman, who Raven identified as the war band’s leader since they were all doing what she said, muttered something else and they were off, the blue eyed warrior and another one whose eyes looked full of mirth in a deadly serious face moving to the back of the cart, while the leader walked alone in front.

She saw Bellamy move his head around one way and the other as he pulled the cart, clearly assessing their chances and she shook her head with a sigh. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she hissed, tugging at his sleeve, “if you play hero you will get us all killed.”

Octavia nodded along, too focused on pulling the small cart to waste breath agreeing with Raven, while Bellamy twisted around to shoot her a surprised look, evidently taken aback that she’d guessed his thoughts so easily. 

Raven had thought she’d kept her voice low, but the man walking beside them had heard, because he snorted and said in heavily accented english.

“Listen to her, boy,” he hefted the spear he was carrying meaningfully, “if you cause trouble...well, we don’t need all of you.” 

Bellamy opened his mouth for an angry retort, then groaned in pain as Octavia’s elbow dug into his side.

“Cut it out, Bell,” his sister whispered, and in the light of the torches he could see her eyes were wide with worry and barely repressed fear, “Raven’s right. Besides if we get ourselves killed we’ll never find Clarke.” 

He knew the girls were right, but he bristled at the way they had been captured, easily as if they were children. He’d thought the gun he’d carried would have afforded some protection, but the man marching at his side had ripped it out of his hands as if it had been a toy. His shin hurt where the warrior’s boot had struck him and it wasn’t long before his arms began to ache from pulling the cart.

Raven wasn’t that heavy, but Bellamy knew that in space gravity had affected all of them differently. Their muscles were underdeveloped as a result and while their time on earth had begun to toughen them up, they were still much weaker than the lowest grounder warrior. 

He hoped the warband was just taking them to a nearby campsite where they would wait the night out and have a chance to at least rest a little. Even with the light of the torches, darkness was almost absolute, and he could barely see the terrain in front of him, with the result that more than once he staggered and tripped on hidden roots and rocks.

He lost track of time, the only sign that they had been walking for a while the burning ache that settled in his thighs. Breathing became harder, every gulp of air he took slicing like a sharp blade down his throat and he heard Octavia pant harshly next to him, their pace slowing to a crawl. 

He didn’t know if he fell to his knees because his feet caught on something, or his legs simply gave out, but he found himself onto the ground, hands digging into soft dirt. 

“Get up, boy.” Each of the man’s words was followed by a vicious prod of the spear’s butt against Bellamy’s ribs, “nobody said you could stop.”

He tried, if only to make the warrior stop hitting him, but the muscles in his thighs locked up, and his legs refused to carry his weight. 

“Can’t..” he gasped, fighting to not collapse face-first into the dirt, “please, just let us rest a little,” every word was like grit, rubbing his tongue raw, “then we can pull more.” 

“Weak,” the man left spat, the tip of his spear jabbing a breath away from Bellamy’s face, “we don’t need all of them,” he repeated, looking at the other grounders, “if they can’t pull, and the girl in the cart can’t walk…” he trailed off, but the threat was as evident as if he had spoken it. 

“Em pleni, Linus.” 

Raven, who had shrunk back against the bottom of the cart at the man’s words, watched the blue-eyed woman move forward. Their eyes met and while the blue gaze was hard and unwavering, the brunette felt reassured by her presence. 

“If they can’t pull any more, I will carry her,” the warrior continued and, bent down, crouching next to the cart. She motioned for Raven to scoot closer and put her arms around the warrior’s neck, before standing almost effortlessly, hands going down to wrap around the brunette’s legs. 

“Get up, boy,” the blue eyed woman shot a cold look at Bellamy who was still gasping on the ground, “Linus is losing the little patience he has left.” 

Raven saw him push up to his feet with a grimace, the man that her saviour had called Linus shoving him forward, Octavia following with a relieved sigh. 

The mechanic bent forward, so that she could whisper in the warrior’s ear. 

“Thank you.” 

The woman didn’t answer, but her hands tightened a little and Raven had the impression that her head moved a fraction as she nodded. It was too dark to tell, and she was too tired to make sure that the warrior had really heard, but when Raven glanced back to the others and her eyes met Linus’ hard stare, a shiver ran down her back and her arms clutched at the woman’s armor. She’d make sure that the woman knew that she was grateful.

Linus’ spear looked awfully sharp even in the flickering light of the torches.

**********************************

Anya woke with a jaw-cracking yawn and a lazy stretch, the end of her spine popping pleasurably as she tensed her muscles. For the first time, in what felt like a lifetime, she had not woken in a heap of messy shivers and sweaty limbs, but rather calm and rested. Content.

She could not say the same for the one still slumbering next to her, eyes flying open at the small whimpers coming from Clarke’s still form. The older woman recognized the signs, the tensing of Clarke’s back, the little tremors shaking her limbs and the guttural sounds coming from deep within the skai girl’s chest. 

“Shhh,” she cooed softly, hand tangling in Clarke’s damp hair, stroking them softly, “I’m here Clarke. You’re safe.” The words almost caught in her throat as she was thrown back to the countless times she had done the same thing for Lexa, on the long, haunted nights in which she’d held the Commander while she mourned the loss of her first love. Ever so gently, the General gathered Clarke into a soft embrace, holding her still when the blonde jolted awake with a strangled scream, legs kicking weakly.

The blonde’s breaths came in short, harsh gasps that blew against Anya’s neck as Clarke buried her face against the General’s neck. Anya kept stroking Clarke’s hair, rubbing her back and slowly the girl relaxed into her body, pulling her face back to blink up at the older woman.

Anya watched Clarke’s eyes slowly clear and brighten, as the memory of the nightmare slowly lifted off the girl’s shoulders and trickled away with the last of her tears. 

“I...I’m sorry,” Clarke mumbled, a blush creeping up her cheeks as she weakly tried to pull out of Anya’s arms. She was afraid that the woman would start to think she was weak for crying so much, and that she wasn’t worth her’s or Lexa’s time. Clarke didn’t want to risk that, not now that they were finally getting somewhere. 

“Stop,” the older woman cooed, hold tightening, “we’ve discussed this, and you were the one to make me understand there is no shame in nightmares, in working our pain through them.” Clarke quit struggling, shivering when Anya’s calloused hands began to work their way along her sides. She was keenly aware that, besides the bandages, she was still stark naked, and that Anya wore only bindings and tight shorts, but it felt comforting to be so close, rather than embarrassing.  

“I’ve held Lexa through hers,” Anya continued, voice softening, “and she helped me through the horrors of the Mountain once you made me realize that I wasn’t alone in dreaming them. And now - together - she and I will help you chase away your own demons.” 

The General’s slanted eyes were warm, brown pools swirling with hints of gold, and Clarke anchored herself within the older woman, breath slowly going back to normal. 

“Thank you,” she reached out, fingers shaking slightly, hesitantly tracing Anya’s jaw, and her heart fluttered wildly when the woman leaned into the touch, a smile flashing across her lips. 

Clarke became aware that the other side of the bed was empty and raised an eyebrow at Anya. 

“She got up a while ago,” the General smirked, “muttering about making breakfast. I think she is trying to impress someone.” 

“Oh?” Clarke smirked, as the last of the tension finally left her. She shifted, body aching and wounds tugging painfully, but not as badly as the day before, “I thought Heda didn’t need to impress anybody.” 

Anya sat up with a grunt. 

“What Heda needs and what Heda wants are two different things,” she laughed softly, and kicked the pelts to the foot of the bed, “at least you won’t have to deal with burnt stew. When I took her as my seken, her cooking was tragic.” 

“It was not,” Lexa ducked through the curtain that closed the sleeping area off from the main tent, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “the stew was well done.” 

“Burnt black.” 

“You still ate it,”Lexa placed the bundle she was carrying on the edge of the bed and crossed her arms obviously thinking her retort had put an end to the bantering. 

“Of course I did. You were so proud of it.” They shared a smile, and Clarke felt warmth spread inside her chest. The cold fingers of the night’s terror were pushed back and away from her heart, and the blonde found solace in the obvious affection Lexa and Anya shared. It was a part of themselves they kept private, and it reminded her of the easy banter within her own family. There had been a time in which their assigned quarters on the Ark had been filled with jokes and laughter, but as life grown harder, they had all become too caught up in their problems and the rooms had grown dark and quiet. 

Family was something that Clarke missed, despite her mother’s best efforts, but perhaps she’d found another, she thought as Lexa handed her a shirt. Their fingers brushed, and Clarke’s skin tingled faintly with the contact. As she pulled it on with Anya’s help, worry came back in a dark tide, doubt gnawing at the edges of her mind. Her friends were still inside the Mountain and the rest of her People might still end up in a war they would likely lose. And her mother….

Bile rose up her throat, and her fingers tightened around the hem of the shirt. She struggled, taking deep breaths for a few moments and then stood on shaky legs with Lexa’s help as Anya helped her pull small clothes and pants up her legs. She didn’t really know what had happened to her mother yet and would have to trust Lexa’s word. The Commander had promised her that the scouts would try to find out. 

In the meantime she could help with the plans for the Mountain, and perhaps find a way to mitigate the effects of the blockade, hoping that whoever was in charge back at Camp Jaha would decide to accept Heda’s terms for resuming negotiations. 

Once they had dressed her, Lexa knelt in front of her, helping her with boots that laced up to mid-calf. They were new, like the clothes, understandable since those she had worn upon leaving TonDC had probably been reduced to bloody rags. 

Clarke shuddered, the air of the room suddenly heavy, and took a half-step towards Lexa, feeling lightheaded, vision wavering. 

“Come,” the Commander grasped her elbow gently, eyes full of concern, “you need some food. It’ll make you feel better.” 

When they stepped into the main tent, Anya shrugging into a wrinkled shirt and hurrying after them, pants still only halfway up her thighs, Clarke noticed that part of the war table had been cleared, parchment and wooden markers piled up to one side. Plates had been laid out in their place, three empty ones with cutlery on one side, arranged so that they could all sit side by side on the long side of the table. Other plates sat within easy reach, loaded with cheese and slices of meat, fresh fruit and some round shaped, brownish things she didn’t recognize. 

“Sit,” Lexa pulled the chair in the middle for her and Clarke dropped on it with a small, thankful groan, fingers pressing against the wound on her shoulder. She felt better, but even a few steps had left her weak and trembling, breathing ragged. 

The Commander went to a side table and puttered around briefly, coming back with mugs full of tea. Clarke took hers gratefully, blowing on it a few times before taking careful sips. 

The other two women sat on either side of her and Anya took her empty plate, starting to pile it with food. 

Once the General was done, she placed it in front of Clarke encouragingly, and the blonde picked up a fork, poking at a slice of meat doubtfully. “Uhm…” her eyes went to the women on either side of her, “isn’t it a bit too much food? I don’t think I can eat it all.” 

“Your body needs the energy you will get from food to heal you faster, Clarke,” Anya replied, watching her expectantly, “you have had nothing in your stomach since we came back, besides some water and a bit of broth. You need food.” 

“Yes, but I don’t need indigestion,” Clarke grumbled, rolling her eyes. Anya didn’t seem willing to relent so she looked at Lexa, but the brunette simply shrugged and grinned back, clearly amused. 

Clarke opened her mouth again, hell-bent on listing all the medical reasons on why she should not eat everything that Anya had piled up for her, stomach clenching with the knowledge that while she was being doted on, her people were suffering and some of her friends may already be dead in the Mountain. The realization that she felt guilty for surviving hit her like a freight train, why had she made it out almost unscathed, where Malcolm - a seasoned, hardened warrior - had been left unmoving on the ground? 

Words died on her tongue, mouth opening and closing as she fixed her eyes to her lap in shame, then Anya’s rough fingers were cradling her jaw, forcing her to lift her gaze and meet mocha colored eyes, soft with understanding. 

Clarke wasn’t prepared for what came next as Anya closed the distance, lips ghosting against her own, then pressing more firmly to her mouth. The kiss was tender and chaste, but the air grew heavy with unspoken promises. The blonde’s heart stilled, and she felt Lexa shift closer, the Commander’s hand finding her own and squeezing softly, just as Anya pulled back. 

“Eat.” The General’s voice had grown hoarse and gritty, and Clarke could do nothing but nod weakly and pick up her fork, spearing a piece of meat to bring to her mouth. She chewed slowly, cheeks burning, lips still heated by the kiss. 

“Does she always win arguments so easily?” She managed to ask after a while, breaking the companionable silence that had descended between them. 

Lexa laughed, but before she could reply, there was a rustle outside the tent’s entrance. 

“Heda?” One of the guards called hesitantly, “may I come inside?” 

“Sha.” The smile fell off Lexa’s face as if someone had flipped a switch and she stood, striding towards the entrance just as the man stepped inside. It took her only three paces, but by the time the man leaned in to whisper into her ear, Heda had taken up residence, the brunette’s softer side hidden underneath. 

Moments later, the Commander dismissed the guard and turned towards them, a grave expression on her face. 

“Angus is back,” she said, coming to stand next to Clarke’s chair and placing a hand on her shoulder, “a patrol has captured some Skaikru miles outside the blockade’s perimeter. They are bringing them in.” 

The meat soured in her mouth, and her stomach roiled as she carefully swallowed, grimacing. She set her fork down, and lifted one trembling hand to her mouth, pressing her fingertips harshly against her lips in an effort to squelch the sob threatening to break free. 

She looked up at Lexa, tears turning her eyes a brilliant cerulean, that shone starkly in her pale face. “What will you…” she hesitated, swallowing harshly, not wanting her next words to sound like an accusation. “What will become of them?” 

Lexa looked away from Clarke’s eyes for a moment, catching Anya’s gaze over the top of Clarke’s head. She easily recognized the firm resignation on Anya’s face, the tight press of her lips, her eyes shadowed with something like sorrow. 

Lexa crouched down next to Clarke, her hands hesitantly finding Clarke’s, not sure if her touch was welcome, but realizing that she needed Clarke’s touch to ground her. And she wasn’t even sure when the desire to touch Clarke had become more than just a fleshly want, but had become an emotional need. Denying her own needs and desires had become second nature, and she had always comforted herself with the knowledge that it was for her people. But she felt her heart lurch in her chest when Clarke grabbed her hands, holding them tightly in her own, grasping at Lexa as if she was the only lifeline left in a storm-tossed sea. And suddenly self-sacrifice didn’t seem as honorable or comforting anymore. 

“I will hear them out, Clarke. You have my word.” She stroked her thumbs across Clarke’s knuckles, hoping the simple touch would reassure her. 

“And then…?”

Lexa looked down at their hands, not sure how to answer her, knowing that the skai girl might not like the answer, knowing that Clarke might not understand the harsh choices she might have to make in the name of the Coalition. 

“I promise you, Clarke, that whatever happens will not be done in the name of vengeance but of justice. I am not anxious to go to war with your people, but they will have to answer for what happened to Malcolm and you.”

Clarke nodded slowly, it made sense. She squeezed Lexa’s hands, knowing what she needed to do. One more time, for her people. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, “I understand, Heda. I will bear it so they don’t have to. Punish me.” 

Lexa hissed under her breath, jerking her head. Her lips twisted, anger flooded her chest, clawing at her ribs like a hungry winter wolf. But before she could spit out the words screaming in her head, Anya pushed back her chair violently, causing it to scrape harshly along the ground. 

“No! You have done enough for your people, Clarke. Your sacrifices are not needed.” 

Each word fell angrily from Anya’s lips, as stones cast into a lake of water, and Clarke shuddered under the weight of them, silently aghast at the turmoil she she could feel filling the room. But even as she gaped in surprise at Anya’s vehemence, and Lexa’s silent storm building sliding against her skin; she couldn’t help but feel relieved, even giddy  at the thought that they cared so much already, and seemed ready to do all they could to keep her from harm.

“Clarke, you have already borne and paid your people’s sins once. They need to understand that if death has no cost, than life has no worth.” She stood, carefully pulling Clarke up with her, “They won’t be here until much later, and you don’t need to worry about it now.” She directed Clarke into Anya’s arms, “You need to rest. I need to meet with some of the ambassadors.”

Anya nodded, wrapping one arm around Clarke’s waist, slightly worried when Clarke let Anya bear most of her weight. She carefully guided her back to the bed, glad to see that the handmaidens, had stripped the bed and put fresh furs on it. She carefully eased Clarke down on to the bed, wiping the hair from her face. “Rest, Clarke. And trust Lexa. She will do what is best for both our people.” 

Clarke looked up, raising her hand and tracing Anya’s high cheekbones, letting her fingers dance across her lips. She smiled when Anya kissed her fingertips, and she let her arm fall back to her side, yawning loudly. “Stay with me,” she muttered as her eyes closed of their own accord. 

“You kissed me,” she murmured sleepily, eyes closed, as she snuggled into the pillow, one hand reaching out for Anya. 

“I did,” amusement colored each word, and Anya couldn’t help but smile as she looked down into Clarke’s face. She was relieved to see the lines that furrowed her brow slowly easing, as sleep started to claim the girl. 

“I liked it,” the last words was almost unintelligible, as Clarke finally drifted off to sleep. 

Anya smiled, amusement making her lips twitch. She carefully eased back down onto the bed to lay next to Clarke for a few minutes, at least until the girl fell asleep. She pressed her lips gently against her forehead, content for the moment, despite the war brewing on the horizon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thoughts?


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion leads to some heartbreaking news.
> 
> Nothing is as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Hope you enjoy the chapter (which again was part of a much bigger one, that we split in two parts, yet we feel like we break off at a good spot) 
> 
> Let us know what you think!
> 
> As usual a special thank you to my Twin, Jude for writing with me. She is crazy talented and I am honored.
> 
> \- K

 

By the time they stopped the sky had begun to turn to a rapidly paling grey towards the east, a sign that dawn wasn’t too far. Linnea set the girl down carefully next to the other two slumping Skayons, trying her best not to wake her up. The brunette had dozed off some time before, one cheek resting against her shoulder as the General walked. The other girl put her arms around the sleeping one with a grateful nod in her direction and Linnea nodded back, her stomach giving a weird lurch as she moved away to help the others with a fire and food. 

There was something that intrigued her about the brunette, even though she couldn’t tell exactly what yet. But if nothing else she could admire the way the girl endured her own pain. When she had crouched and felt along the Skayon’s thigh, fingers finding the hastily put together brace that squeezed the girl’s muscles, she had understood the extent of the injury. She wondered what could have caused it. There was a man in her own tribe that had come back a cripple from a campaign against the Ice Warriors - a spear had pierced right beneath his left buttock, shearing through tendons and once he’d healed his leg had been considerably shorter. He wore a brace too, albeit something far more comfortable. 

The General’s mind spun with possibilities, and she wondered if she could have a similar brace made for the girl, one that would not cut into the flesh of her leg so cruelly.  Linnea crouched in front of the small fire, poking at it with a stick, stirring the embers, suddenly uncomfortable with the idea that she cared about this strange girl and her brace. This girl was her enemy, except she didn’t feel like her enemy, she felt like...a girl, a girl who had fallen from the stars and was trying to find her way home.

The fire was small enough that the smoke would dissipate as it reached the overhang of tree branches forming a natural canopy over their heads, but still just big enough that predators in the vicinity would give them a wide berth. They had stopped for a few hours to eat and rest. Linnea was determined to bring the three skaikru to Lexa, alive, and well enough to talk; and she had her doubts that any of them could continue the brutal pace they had set. 

She wasn’t sure yet where the three Skaikru had been headed, as they had been going away from their people’s camp, and also further away from Ton DC. She shook her head, digging her stick harshly into the embers. They probably should have taken them sooner rather than followed them for so long, for now the journey back to Ton DC was even longer. 

She didn’t bother to look up when Je’Saris crouched down next to her, but she was relieved it was Je’Saris and not Linus. She didn’t like the way he looked at the Skaikru, especially the one they called Raven. She stabbed her stick into the fire again, her eyes flicking up and immediately finding the girl slumped against the tree, rubbing her leg with a shaking hand. 

“Linus and Thany have gone hunting. They will be back soon.” Je’Saris squatted next to Linnea, holding her hands out to the fire. She hadn’t missed Linnea’s quick glances towards the Skaigirl. She had been surprised when Linnea had taken the girl upon her own back, but she hadn’t said anything. She knew Linus  saw it a s coddling the girl, and so Angus would have if she hadn’t sent him ahead. The girl was their enemy, and Linnea risked being called weak for doing what she did. But somehow Je’Saris knew that to call Linnea weak would be a grave error, and she wasn’t prepared to make that mistake. 

“The girl…” her voice trailed off, and she saw Linnea stiffen out of the corner of her eye. She smirked and rubbed her hand over her shorn head. She rubbed the back of her neck, before leaning in slightly towards Linnea. “I did not take you for one who would like a girl, like that.” 

Linnea grit her teeth, just barely holding back a tide of angry words. Her head buzzed, and she felt her mouth sour, but she refused to reply, wrapping her silence around herself like a heavy, winter cloak. She wasn’t going to make it easy for Je’Saris, whatever the other war band leader wanted to say. 

Je’Saris grunted, recognizing Linnea’s silence for what it was, and she nodded her head slightly, acquiescing to her unspoken refusal. She rubbed her hands together, cracking the knuckles of her fingers. She sighed when they aligned properly, flexing them carefully. Too many hours gripping a sword. 

“This girl affects you,” she murmured, the inflections of her voice quiet and flat. No judgment. 

Linnea shifted slightly, unable to keep from glancing up at the girl who was now leaning back against the tree, her head tilted up to the sky. The boy and other girl sat next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, neither speaking, but both glancing around the camp from time to time. 

“She doesn’t complain.” Linnea hunched her shoulders slightly, pushing the stick further into the fire, shifting some of the small twigs so they would burn better. “Clarke mentioned her. She is supposed to be brilliant.” She shrugged again, “Clarke said she understands the tek of the Maunon.” 

Je’Saris nodded, not fooled by Linnea’s seeming disinterest, her attempt to explain her interest away as that of one who only cared what the girl could contribute to the fight against the Mountain. She smirked a little. “And I suppose the fact that the girl is beautiful has nothing to do with it?” 

Linnea hissed, surprised at the sudden anger that roared to life. She snapped the stick in her hand. She growled and looked at it in disgust before tossing the ends into the fire. 

Je’Saris watched Linnea out of the corner of her eye, a small smile playing about the corners of her lips. She didn’t know Linnea well, but she had been impressed by the warrior in the last few days that they had been patrolling. She knew Linnea was a general, but she was also a trader in times of peace, and she had learned quickly that the warrior wasn’t hot-headed, but prone more to negotiation. It was a useful skill to have, and it was one of the reasons why she had accepted the warrior into her war band. But this...this reaction, this outburst of anger, the warrior’s seeming lack of control...Je’Saris smiled again. It was an interesting turn of events. 

“This is not a bad thing,” she murmured, keeping her voice low as she heard Linus and Thany returning with freshly caught rabbits. “Heda and the General know that we need these Skaikru to defeat the mountain, to rid our lands of it’s bleeding greed. Getting to know these Skaikru, can only help us.” She jerked her chin towards Raven, “and who better to start with, then the one who is brilliant, and understands the Maunon?” She stood, squaring her shoulders, looking down at Linnea one last time. “Besides,” she whispered, “she looks like she needs a home.” 

Linnea didn’t react, just stared moodily into the fire, surprised and wary that Je’Saris had managed to uncover her interest in the girl so easily. 

She rose morosely, trying to keep her inner storm from spilling onto her face, and strode to the hunters, taking the rabbits from them and setting down next to the fire to prepare them for cooking. It worked like that in warbands - everyone pitched in. It was how yongons learned the basics for survival and the warriors’ trade, and whoever slacked from their duties usually didn’t live a long life, as the others were less willing to protect them. 

Her mind began to still as she worked, having something practical to do helping her to sort through her thoughts. Most things hinged on what Heda would do with the three prisoners, but perhaps she could show a bit of kindness to Raven. 

Linnea worked her knife quickly, skinning the rabbits and putting the pelts to the side. They would take those back to Tondisi and hand them off to some artisan there who would most likely turn them to gloves for the winter. Placing the innards into a bowl Je’Saris handed to her, she parted the carcasses and placed the different parts on a spit, so that they would slowly cook over the fire. 

Je’saris added more wood to the fire and soon enough the enticing aroma of roasted meat filled the clearing. It was mouthwatering enough to rouse the three yongons, who had been dozing off against each other. 

When the meat was ready, Linnea grabbed two thighs off the spit and strode over to the prisoners, offering one to Raven without speaking. The brunette took it hesitantly, eyes widening at the generous portion. It would probably have looked weird to the other warriors if Je’Saris hadn’t followed, handing more meat to the other two. The cuts weren’t as good as the one Linnea had gotten for Raven, but none of the three would starve before getting to Tondisi. 

The General nodded to Raven, hoping her face remained a blank slate and secretly cursing the skayon for getting under her skin so easily. She whirled around, ripping into the piece of meat she had kept for herself and chewing sullenly, but she didn’t miss the knowing smirk on Je’Saris’s face.  Nor did she miss the appraising glance from Thany, the other warrior nodding minutely.

The warband leader’s words echoed inside her skull and she grimaced sadly around a bite of meat. Perhaps Raven wasn’t the only one that needed a home.

**********************************

The sun was high in the sky when Clarke climbed out of bed for the second time. She had done little but lay in bed, fitfully sleeping, worrying about who Lexa’s warriors had captured. Both Anya and Lexa had popped in throughout the day, on one flimsy accuse after another. After the third time that Lexa had supposedly forgotten one of her many daggers, Clarke had convinced her to sit down with her on the bed to tell her stories of the days she trained under Anya. 

She shambled across the room, shivering in the cooling air. She could hear a loud commotion out in the village, and her heart froze in her chest for a moment before pounding sharply and relentlessly against her ribs again. The warriors had returned. She hurriedly scrubbed her face in the basin of water that had been left out, pushed her limp hair back behind her ears, and gazed at herself critically in the broken shards of mirror. Her face was still too pale, her eyes too big in her face, but at least they were no longer clouded with pain.

She stretched her shoulder lightly, grimacing at the pulling of the healing, pink flesh. She was shocked how much it had healed in a few days, and she wondered if it had something to do with the Trikru’s medicine, or maybe it had something to do with the changes in the chemical makeup of the plants, caused by radiation. 

She needed to ask Abby, she would know, or at least have an idea; and then she realized with a sickening lurch that asking her mother might no longer be a possibility. She gripped the edges of the table, her shoulders hunched, her head caught between her shoulders as she tried to bite back the sobs threatening to break past the reefs of her mouth in a surging tide. 

She gave herself a moment, swallowing harshly, before straightening and turning away towards the chest at the foot of the bed. She heard the patter of light feet and turned to the door, just as a small head peeked around the corner. “It’s ok, Alira, you can come in.” 

The young handmaiden slipped through the doorway, nodding at Clarke. She quickly knelt next to the trunk, opening it and rummaging around before she held up two shirts for Clarke’s approval. Clarke nodded toward the blue one, hoping the vibrant blue would help disguise the sickly paleness of her skin. Alira helped her put it on, buttoning it up the front for her, clucking a little under her breath, as she pushed Clarke’s hair back from her face. She returned to rummaging through the chest again, before pulling out a set of beautiful, tortoise hair combs. 

She gestured for Clarke to sit, and she wet her hair, brushing it out until it shown, then she slid the combs into place to hold her hair back. 

Alira smiled and patted Clarke on the shoulders. “You are ready. I believe the General is on her way to escort you to the village hall.” 

Clarke turned and grabbed Alira’s hand, “Thank you, Alira.” She squeezed her hand gently, hoping the young girl understood how thankful she was for the care she had given Clarke. She chewed on her lower lip, wondering if she should ask Alira, if it would be better to know. Neither Lexa or Anya had been particularly forthcoming about what would happen next. 

“The village hall?” 

“Sha, it is where all matters of importance are conducted.” 

“I see. And what have you heard?” She waited for a moment, carefully watching Alira who seemed surprised by the question. 

The girl shrugged. “It isn’t for me to suppose or to repeat.” 

Clarke nodded, feeling guilty at putting the girl in that position. As one of Heda’s trusted handmaidens, she would have to understand the importance of never revealing what she overheard in Heda’s rooms. 

“Right. Of course. Thank you, Alira.” She looked down at her hands after the girl had left, idly noting the callouses that had started to form, the nicks and small cracks. She smiled a little at the thought of what her father would say about her hands now. Gone was the soft, unblemished skin of her days on the Ark, instead she’d grown another layer, a harder more durable layer. A layer of skin fit for life on Earth. Somehow she knew her father would approve. 

**********************************

She didn’t know whether she was relieved or more afraid when she realized the captured skaikru were Bellamy, Raven, and Octavia. She had been overjoyed to see them mostly well, if not worried what it would mean for them that they had been caught breaking the blockade. She had risen from her seat to go to them, but Anya’s firm hand on her shoulder had told her all she needed to know. Now was not the time to show her regard for her friends, it would only fuel the ambassadors’ anger. 

It had only taken a few moments for the meeting to dissolve into chaos with many of the present ambassadors yelling and calling for blood, Bellamy threatening anyone who touched Octavia, and Octavia yelling and demanding to know where Lincoln was. Raven held her peace, her body wracked with exhaustion and pain, slumping against Octavia. She was aware of the blue-eyed warrior who stood almost directly behind her, barely a hair’s breadth between them. And she wondered if she would have found it intimidating if she hadn’t already felt the strength and gentleness in the warrior’s arms, when she’d carried her those long miles through the woods. 

It had taken Lexa rising almost violently from her carved throne, her hands in the air, her eyes glaring fiercely at all in the room, before the mob’s angry mutterings died down. She had dismissed the ambassadors, over their vehement protests, but they had fallen in line when she’d let her hand rest on her dagger, her intent more than clear. She’d dismissed most of the guards too, before returning to her seat. 

“Now. We start from the beginning. You,” she pointed towards Octavia, who was glaring at her, “you are the one they call Octavia. You are Lincoln’s  _ niron,  _ yes?” 

Octavia surged forward, only to be stopped by a harsh hand on her forearm that jerked her back. Tears stung her eyes, but she glared at the tall warrior, jerking her forearm out his grasp with surprising strength. “Yes, please. Do you know where Lincoln is?”

Lexa held up her hand, glad to see Octavia at least knew enough to keep her mouth shut this time, “Lincoln is not here, but I have guards out looking for him.” She sighed, shifting a little, “We think the Ripas might have taken him,” she finished quietly, surprised that she felt bad for the girl when Octavia gasped, tears flooding her eyes, before she grit her teeth and raised her chin. 

“Then I will find him.” 

Lexa cocked her head to the side, slightly bemused by Octavia’s bold but determined statement. She let her gaze rove over the girl, noticing the braids coming undone, no doubt done by Lincoln’s hand days ago; the ripped clothes; the bloodied bandage around one palm; the dirt on her cheek; the empty scabbard across her shoulder. She glanced up at Linus, gesturing to the second sword at his waist. 

She examined it closely after Linus handed it to her, noting the poorly bent metal, done with an amatuer hand and a too cool fire, but the edge had been meticulously shaped and sharpened. It was a poor sword, uneven, unbalanced, and gainly. “Did you make this?” 

Octavia nodded. “The scabbard also. And this,” she pulled a small hand-made knife from under the back of her shirt where it lay flat between her shoulder blades on a string around her neck. 

Anya chuckled, pleased to see that at least one of Clarke’s friends was as tough and determined as the blonde. She leaned down to Lexa, whispering in her ear, before straightening again. “It would seem that the guards weren’t quite as thorough as they should have been.” She watched out of the corner of her eye as Linus shifted, his face turning slightly red. 

“Come, Linus. She got the best of you. That must be worth something.” She chuckled again as Linus growled but nodded his head. 

“She would make a good Seken,” he growled with ill grace, still smarting over the fact that he hadn’t found the hidden knife. 

“She would.” Lexa turned her attention back to Bellamy and Raven. “Clarke tells me that you are her friends, that you both helped keep your people alive.” She turned her attention fully to Raven, “and you...you understand the tek, the tek of the  _ Maunon _ ?” 

Raven nodded, “I’m an engineer, the best that my people have. I can build anything, and destroy anything,” she finished quietly. 

“The bridge. That was you?” 

Raven nodded slowly, too tired to offer a defense of any sort. 

“It was my idea, Le-Heda. The bridge was my idea, she only followed my orders.” Clarke hurried to explain, but stopped when Lexa held up her hand. She swallowed harshly, biting back her retort. She needed to trust Lexa. 

“The bridge has been answered for. We are here to discuss the blockade. Je’Saris?” 

“We found them going in the opposite direction of the camp and Ton DC. They were also going away from the Mountain. It appears that they were looking for their friend,” she hesitated for a moment, looking at the three bedraggled captives, before meeting Thany’s gaze, who nodded slightly to her. “They left before the blockade was in place.” 

“I see. And did you know of the blockade?” She nodded again when all three vehemently shook their heads, talking over each other, trying to explain that they didn’t know there was a blockade, they were just looking for Clarke. 

“I’ve heard enough.” The room stilled, and the voices died down. Clarke gripped her hands together tightly in her lap, too afraid to even breathe. 

“There seems to be no crime here.” Lexa sat back in her throne as the room settled with a relaxed whoosh. She could see the three skaikru visibly droop in relief. “For the time being, you will be our guests here,” she smirked, “but you will have assigned guards, and I do not recommend that you try to leave.” She waited until all three nodded their heads. 

She glanced over at Clarke, “Clarke, is there anything you want to add?” 

“I…” she swallowed hard, her throat bobbing and constricting. “When we were running, retreating from the gunfire….” She could feel the tears burning her eyes, and she blew out a shaky breath before beginning again. “I heard my mom...I-I turned back, and I think I saw her fall.” She clenched her hands together, her fingers whitening as she she grit her teeth and steeled herself. “I need to know, Raven.” 

Raven looked down at her feet, idly noting the mud caked to her boots. It must have rained on their trek to this village. She vaguely remembered the warrior carrying her, rain beating down on her head. She struggled with trying to find the right words, wondering how she could say it…

_ Raven hobbled along the side of the building, her back pressed as tightly against it as possible. She could hear muttering ahead of her, and new it must be the two guards near the eastern wall. She needed to get across the small stretch of ground without them seeing her. She peered carefully around the lopsided corner of the building, her fingers wrapped tightly around the edge so she could balance on one leg. She could hear them more clearly now as they were walking towards her. She cursed under her breath, swinging her bag around to the front, rummaging through it before she pulled her knotted string and a small notebook.  _

_ She dropped the back with a thump, and held the string up to the corner of the building as if measuring it. She muttered under her breath, a long string of non-sensical numbers. She watched them out of the corner of her eye as they walked by her, only giving her a cursory glance.  _

_ “I’m telling you, Kelsey. I overhead Jackson talking to Kane about it. She’s dead,” hissed the blonde-haired guard to his smaller companion.  _

_ “Fuck, Ben. We are so screwed without a doctor,” muttered the female guard as she hefted her rifle to her shoulder. She shook her head in anger, “they are going to kill us all. These...these savages,” she snarled. The other guard grunted in agreement as they moved passed Raven.  _

_ Raven’s hands fell to her side, her chest aching as her eyes filled with tears. Abby had been one of the few people who had never judged her for the origins of her birth. Abby had believed in her, had even loved her. She shook her head, wiping the tears away as quickly as possible. She stuffed the string and notebook into her bag, before hefting it to her shoulder. She scanned the uneven patch of ground, thankful no one was in sight, and she made her way as quickly as possible to the wall. They needed to find Clarke.  _

Raven couldn’t bear to look up and see the hope and pain in Clarke’s eyes, but she knew the longer she made Clarke wait, the harder it would be. She took a deep breath, steadying herself when she felt Octavia brush against her, offering her support. 

“Yes, Clarke. I overheard two guards talking. I...I’m so sorry, Clarke,” she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. “I’m so fucking sorry, Clarke.” 

Clarke sat there, her chest cracking open, and she wanted to scream. She still had so much to say to her mother, and now she would never have the chance. Tears dripped down her face, and she didn’t bother to hide them. She heard Anya shift behind her, and she wanted to reach back and grab for the general’s hand, wanted that little bit of comfort, but she knew she couldn’t. 

“Are you sure, Raven? Is there any doubt?” She had to ask, she couldn’t bring herself to accept her mother’s death. 

Raven shook her head sadly. “I heard a guard, Ben I think, tell another guard that he heard Jackson tell Kane she was dead. I’m so sorry, Clarke.” She choked on Clarke’s name, tears spilling over her eyes, as her body sagged, no longer able to hold her own weight. But strong arms caught her before she crashed to the ground, and she was barely aware of the tall warrior with the blue eyes who had carried her before, holding her again. 

She leaned her head on the warrior’s shoulder, too tired to care that she had made a spectacle of herself. Weariness dogged her heels, and the throbbing in her leg had only intensified over the long hours. She simply wanted to sleep, to mourn Abby’s loss, and figure out how they were going to save their people. 

“Trin, Bora,” Lexa waved two guards over, “Trin, escort Octavia to Clarke’s tent,” she nodded to Linnea who still held Raven in her arms, “take Raven with you and follow them. The two Skai girls can stay in Clarke’s tent. Bora show Bellamy to the Seken’s tent. He can stay there for now. You are his assigned guard.”

She dismissed them all with a wave of her hand, worried that Clarke still hadn’t looked up, but she could see the small tremble in her shoulders. And she could see, out of the corner of her eye, that Anya had stepped up behind Clarke’s chair, her hand wrapped around the top of the back of the chair. Her fingers were white, and Lexa knew it was too keep herself from reaching out and touching Clarke. 

Once everyone had left including the guards, she heaved herself quickly from her throne and bent down next to Clarke’s chair, her hands wrapped around the arm. “Clarke,” she tried to keep her voice low and soothing, but Clarke didn’t respond. Lexa wrapped her hand around Clarke’s fists that were bunched together in her lap, and she simply stared at them, her heart pounding heavily in her chest as tears splashed onto her hand. 

She stood, “Anya…” But Anya was already moving, bending down and picking Clarke up in her arms. She turned without looking at Lexa, knowing she would follow. 

********************************** 

Dusk was falling as Bellamy trudged along behind the one called Bora. The warrior looked about his own age, with his head shaved and heavily tattooed. He was a little shorter than Bellamy, but Bellamy was under no illusion that he could best the stocky grounder in a fight. The warrior seemed unconcerned with his captive, simply gesturing for Bellamy to follow him. At least it was better than having Linus behind him, prodding him with the but of his spear, and sometimes with the tip of his spear. 

They wove their way through huts and tents, past burning fires where villagers and warriors alike sat around. He saw a few kids running about, and they stopped and looked at him, only to immediately go back to their play, not threatened by this stranger from the sky. Soon they arrived at a large tent, and Bora called out what Bellamy assumed was a greeting in their language, and after a moment a voice bade them enter. 

Bellamy blinked rapidly, his eyes trying to adjust to the light that flicked in the tent, as he was unceremoniously shoved into the tent by Bora. He gazed around, noting the large fire pit in the center, ringed by rocks. Bedrolls were spread out around the tent, and he counted nine, but only seven other people in the tent aside from him and Bora. They looked to be all ages, some as young at ten, the oldest being around Octavia’s age.

A tall girl unfolded her legs and stood in one graceful movement, her skin glowing like burnished copper in the light. Her hair hung in braids to her chin, and she wore leather breeches and only a wrap around her chest. 

Bellamy felt his face burn hotly, as she gazed at him, her lip curling slightly. She turned to Bora, speaking rapidly, her hands clenched on her hips. It seemed that they were arguing until finally the girl nodded her head, and Bora left. 

“So you are one of the skai goufas?” She snorted, eyeing him up and down. She rolled her eyes when he simply shrugged, and she gestured to one of the younger boys. She spoke quietly to him, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. 

The boy returned a few moments later, his arms full of furs, and he gave them to the girl, who thrust them into Bellamy’s chest. “Here. You can bed down on that side of the fire with the boys.” She jerked her head, clearly meaning for Bellamy to make his way across the tent. 

Bellamy nodded, “so who are you? I’m Bellamy.” He held out his hand, but the girl simply stared at him, ignoring his hand and in the end he dropped it, “Right. Ok. So who are you all?” When the girl still said nothing, he huffed in agitation and tried one last time, “Sekens?” The word felt foreign on his tongue, but the sound, when he repeated it again, tickled his ear, as if it were just an old memory on the tip of his tongue.

“Sha,” said a little boy with sandy hair and gray eyes. He stepped forward, dagger in hand, staring up at Bellamy, curiosity sharpening his features. “Sekens. We are in training.” 

The girl grunted, her hand falling heavily, but not without affection, on the boy’s shoulder. She gave his shoulder a little squeeze, and nudged him back to sharpening his dagger. “Go on with you, Sasha.” She turned her attention back to Bellamy, “I am Fen. This is one of the Seken’s tent.” She gestured around her, “Apprentices to warriors.” 

Bellamy nodded tiredly. It was enough information for the moment. He looked around, nodding at the Sekens, most of whom ignored him. He threw his furs on the floor, carefully arranging them before he laid down, tucking his hands under his head, and staring up at the small hole in the top of the tent. He supposed despite everything, they had been lucky, and they had seen Clarke. She was alive. That was more than he had hoped. 

******************************

Kane stood outside the med bay, leaning against the cold, steel wall of the Ark, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if to ward off the grief that he could feel rising through his blood. His head was swimming, his heart pounding, and his mouth was sour with fear. They couldn’t afford to lose Abby. She was too valuable, too important. He couldn’t lose Abby. He wouldn’t lose Abby. The salt burned his eyes, but he refused to allow the tears to fall. 

“Kane.” 

Kane jerked upright, his arms falling to his sides, hope making his voice tremble. “Jackson...is she? how…is there any change?”

Jackson stepped closer, his coat covered in drying sprays of blood. It had been a long and messy surgery. He didn’t have nearly enough tools or medicine that had survived the crash to properly save her. He’d managed to wipe some of the blood off, but it hadn’t done much good. He knew he would be seeing Abby’s blood on his coat at night for weeks to come. It looked like he’d come from a slaughter. And that was exactly what it was. His stomach rolled at the thought of what they’d done, opening fire on a group of grounders who had come to make peace. Opened fire on Clarke, on Abby. 

He leaned in towards Kane, keeping his voice low,  “I’m sorry, Kane. It’s bad. I don’t know what to do. She isn’t responding. She is unconscious, and on a ventilator.” He sighed, distress coloring each word as he ran his hand through his hair, “we don’t have the medicine or the tools…” 

“So there’s no hope. She’s dead.” Kane’s voice cracked on the last word, and he grit his teeth harshly, turning to look through the large glass windows into the med bay. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was back there, laying on a  blood soaked gurney, dying with each strained breath she took. 

Jackson shook his head. “No. She’s in a coma, and I don’t know how to bring her out of it.” He sighed and leaned in closer to Kane, guilt coloring his words, “We’ve never dealt with comas before, Kane. You know how it was on the Ark.” 

Kane nodded tiredly, all too aware of what Jackson meant. A coma meant wasted resources, and if a patient slipped into a coma, they were floated. It was barbaric, but it was life on the Ark. He sighed, bringing his hands to his face, feeling the stubble that had grown. Once upon a time, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to be unshaven, unkept, but that was a lifetime ago. 

“We can’t let this get out, Kane. Not more than it already has.” Jackson lifted his hands helplessly, worry digging deep lines into his face. “If people believe she is dead or is going to die…”

Kane nodded again, “I know. I’ve dealt with the guard, Ben, who overheard us earlier. He only told Kelsey that Abby was dead. I’ve put them both to work digging latrines to remind them the dangers of gossipping.” He chuckled wryly, “I don’t think they will be repeating that she is supposedly dead.” 

“What do we tell them for now?” 

“We tell them she is resting and can’t be disturbed,” replied Jackson, nodding firmly. 

Kane sighed and nodded again, exhaustion nipping at his muscles. “That doesn’t take care of the bigger problem. How do we save her?”

Jackson sighed, looking around, up and down the corridor, before grabbing Kane by the arm and ushering him into the med bay, “I have an idea…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14 is almost done and there are more Clexa and Clexanya moments coming - we hope you are ready ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess what isn't in this chapter? That's right! NO SEX!!! But guess what is in the next chapter...?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My twin can be a brat. She didn't put up my note last time. So she'd better do it this time! She is amazing. That is all.
> 
> \- Jude
> 
> I am not a brat. Lies! But the truth is I love my twin dearly. She is awesome.
> 
> \- K

“What do you suppose they are doing?” Bellamy asked his sister, jerking his head towards the group of grounders laboring under a weak sun. He sat on a wooden log, Octavia and Raven on either side of him, as they used their time to observe the camp and its inhabitants. Heda had been true to her word, and they had been able to walk around the village and the rows of tents unmolested, but the dark looks most people threw their way had convinced the three of them it was best to stick close to the quarters that Octavia and Raven had been assigned. For his part, Bellamy had left the Sekens’ tent as soon as the sun had risen, Fen practically kicking him from his blanket roll as the other youths left for their daily training. 

The girl didn’t seem particularly hostile, but neither was she welcoming, and he’d rather keep an eye on his sister anyway. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of Clarke, maybe exchange a word in private, but the blonde had been nowhere to be seen, much to his dismay. 

“So?” He insisted, more to fill up the quiet than real curiosity, “what do you think they are doing?” Another team of warriors trudged by, bearing bundles of wood. One of the men met his gaze, and Bellamy flinched when the warrior sneered and spat on the ground next to him. 

“They are building a pyre,” Raven answered laconically after the group was out of earshot, “to burn the one our guards shot.” 

“How do you know?” Bellamy asked, eyebrows raised.

“She told me.” Raven looked to the warrior woman standing watch over them. She leaned nonchalantly in the shade of a nearby tree, and Bellamy could almost believe that she was lounging from the way she slumped back against the trunk of the tree, except her blue eyes never rested in one spot for more than a few minutes and her hand tapped the hilt of the sword at her waist, as if she was ready to bare steel at a moment’s notice. 

Bellamy waited for Raven to elaborate, but the girl just sighed, eyes returning to a patch of dirt between her feet. She had been quiet and withdrawn since telling Clarke about her mother, and judging from her reddened eyes he thought she had been crying. He opened his mouth to ask Octavia, then reconsidered. If Raven wanted to a shoulder to cry on she knew where to find him. She’d been ready enough when she had found out her now ex boyfriend had slept with Clarke. 

He shook his head sadly and bent down to pick up a small rock, juggling it between his fingers as his thoughts invariably went back to Clarke. 

Bellamy couldn’t say he’d known Abby well, but he knew what it felt like to lose a mother, and when Clarke would need someone to help her through her grief, he wanted to be there for her. He couldn’t deny that he had missed the  camaraderie that had grown between them - the long days since they had been separated after the attack at the Dropship had made him see that - and while he’d tried to hold on to the hope they would find her alive and well, he had felt lost and floundering up to the moment he had laid eyes on her in the Commander’s tent. 

She had looked tired and drawn even before they confirmed her mother’s death, her skin much to pale and clammy as if she was just getting better from a long sickness. And then, when she had hunched over under the weight of grief, he had seen pain flash through her face and his blood had turned cold with the realization that Skaikru guns had not only killed the Chancellor, but also gravely wounded her daughter.

Bellamy clenched his jaw and let the pebble drop back to the ground. He could not fix what had happened, but he knew that they needed Clarke back at Camp Jaha now more than ever. He knew she would see that, she just needed to get better, and then he would take her back and keep her safe. 

He owed Abby that much.

*********************

Kane followed Jackson into the med bay without speaking, heart and footsteps equally heavy. Abby’s assistant strode quickly to the only occupied bed, checking the woman’s vitals and the readings on the machines she was hooked up on, before stepping back and pulling a curtain to hide her from view. 

Marcus hadn’t particularly wanted to look, but he forced himself to, wincing at how fragile Abby’s body looked under the blankets, how broken. 

“You mentioned you have an idea,” he urged quietly, wanting to hear Jackson out before his meeting with the remaining members of the Council. A message from the grounders had come through hours before, words hastily scrambled on paper and shot over their wall tied to an arrow. He had already argued with Byrne and the others about it, maintaining that what the grounder leader offered may be their only way out, but the Council felt if the guards were to be punished it should be done following Ark law, and Byrne didn’t want to give up her men in the first place. It wasn’t even clear yet which one of them had started shooting. 

But Kane knew that as much as they could bide for time, this so-called Heda wouldn’t wait forever. And winter wouldn’t either, and when it came he doubted the space they were being allowed for foraging would be enough. They needed a solution now and, as he cast a sad glance to the closed curtain, he keenly felt the absence of Abby’s “no nonsense” attitude about things. She would have put her foot down, not allowing the other leaders to bicker indefinitely.

“My idea. Right.” Jackson led him to a nearby table where he’d laid out prints of aerial photos that had been taken while they were still in space. “The main problem is I don’t have better equipment, or better meds to help Abby recover. Should she need a transfusion for example…” he opened his arms, looking defeated, “blood needs to be tested for compatibility and treated before a transfusion, which I can’t do right now because I lack most tools, but I know where we may find them. “ He tapped a finger on a particular photo and Kane nodded, Jackson’s words suddenly making sense. 

“Mt. Weather,” he said curtly, mind already pulling a plan together. A small enough group may be able to slip past the grounders’ blockade, especially since it would take the enemy some time to organize a thorough watch. His mouth twisted at his own thoughts, a sneer tinted with regret at the realization he was already considering himself at war with these people. This was not the way he’d envisioned coming back to Earth. Jackson was still looking at the map and missed the emotion flashing across Kane’s face. 

“That was the original plan when we sent the kids down. Mount Weather was a military base so there will be some equipment I can use there. Something better than what I got here at least.” 

“Alright,” Kane agreed, “draft a list of items I need to look for. I’ll go organize things with Byrne.” 

“You want to go yourself? But the Council…” Jackson trailed off, evidently unused at contradicting a ranking officer. 

“The Council can keep stalling with the grounders, focus all their attention her while we sneak out and back with supplies.” He was about to add a snide remark about the other council members when the doors hissed open, a worried-looking Byrne stepping inside the med bay.

“Sir?” The woman halted her advance long enough to snap off a sharp salute, “sorry to interrupt sir, but we have a situation…” she closed her mouth and shot a meaningful look towards Jackson. 

“It’s fine, Major,” Kane waved her on, “say whatever you need to say.” 

She nodded, even though she clearly would have preferred he send the other man away. 

“We’ve received a radio transmission. It’s one of the kids and...and it comes from the Mountain. He says there’s people in there, sir.” 

*********************

Clarke’s hands shook, and she stepped back from the body with a weary sigh, hands reaching out to grab at the nearby table and hold herself upright. Sweat had plastered her shirt to her back, and she tugged at it fastidiously, wincing when her healing wounds sent a blaze of pain down her spine. 

“Sit,” Nyko ordered without looking up, intent on straightening Malcolm's armor. She had insisted on helping, brushing off Lexa’s and Anya’s concerns, and the healer had agreed after staring for long moments into her haunted eyes.  She watched as he placed Malcolm’s hunting knife atop the warrior’s chest, before bringing his hands to close over the hilt. The corpse had been preserved in the cold of a deep cave, and Nyko had treated it with special balms to stave off decomposition, so that the appropriate number of days could pass, and the spirit leave the body completely before the last rites.

The body would be burned as was the grounders’ way, but there were rites to observe first, and spirits to appease. She watched, eyes burning with unshed tears, as Nyko eased a small metal disc inside the corpse’s mouth, before dipping a slender brush in kohl and applying war paint on his face.

He’d explained to Clarke that warriors who died in the service of their Commander received the token, engraved on one side with Heda’s holy symbol. It was a testament to their sacrifice, and represented a promise on the Commander’s behalf, to care for the families they left behind.

“Would you seal the shroud shut, Klark?” He said after some time and she raised her gaze to meet his,  noting he was holding needle and thread out to her.

“Sha.” She stood, clenching the muscles in her lower back and locking her knees to keep from wavering, then took the needle from Nyko’s fingers. His calloused hand closed around hers for a moment, and his dark eyes filled with warmth. “Mochof, child.” 

Clarke merely nodded, a reply she couldn’t voice stuck inside her throat, and bent down to begin sewing, as the healer held the edges of the funeral shroud  together for her. The needle was thick, the cloth coarse and she had to push into the fabric forcefully, her back aching with every stitch, but she grit her teeth through it. 

It was just a little pain, and she would honor the warrior and show no weakness. 

The blonde was aware of Anya’s eyes on her, like a firm touch on her back. The General had become a second shadow since the moment Raven had confirmed her mother’s death, rarely leaving her side. And when she was called away to follow duty, Lexa took her place, as if the two of them had agreed to keep constant watch on Clarke despite her protesting that she was fine and they didn’t need to do it. 

“I remember this one time,” Nyko mused softly as she worked, “he was a yongon still, barely reaching my chest, and he came back from a hunt all trussed, his ribs bloody,” he laughed, shaking his head ruefully, “you saw the scars across his torso, yes?” 

Clarke nodded. She had noticed them when she’d helped the healer wash the body, claw marks faded white with time. 

“A shadow cat!” Nyko resumed, voice ringing with pride, “he’d brought it down all by himself and that winter he wore a cloak made from his fur. All the other youngsters envied him.” 

“I wish I could have gotten to know him better.” Clarke murmured sadly. She had sewn up to Malcolm's face and she stopped for a moment, fingers gently tracing his cheek. Nyko’s hand went over hers and she looked up,

“The last stitch through the nose, Klark.”

She blinked confused, and behind her Anya spoke softly.

“It’s tradition. A stitch through the flesh to ascertain death.” 

The blonde nodded numbly and allowed Nyko to guide her hand. They finished together and then she staggered backwards and Anya’s hands went to her shoulders, holding her upright. The warrior’s touch was fleeting, but enough to lend her strength and Clarke nodded gratefully, as they watched Nyko call for a pair of warriors to take the body to the pyre that had been erected just outside the village, in the same spot where Clarke had taken punishment on behalf of her people during a life she felt belonged to another person.

Clarke followed outside more slowly, Anya matching her step for step, mind filled by only one thought.

She didn’t have a body to burn. 

*************************

Kane sat at the small desk in his quarters, staring at the list of medical supplies needed by Jackson. The mountain had them all, at least Jasper believed they did. He had already seen the inside of their infirmary. He still couldn’t believe that people had survived so long in the mountain and had apparently even flourished to a certain degree. 

He rubbed at his face, the bristles of his beard scratching his palms as he recalled his conversation with Jasper.

_ “...President Dante, he’s smart and kind…” _

_ “...he’s an artist…” _

_ “...the people here have survived for a long time…” _

_ “...President Dante will want to meet with you…” _

_ “...we can help each other…” _

_ “...Dr. Tsing has all the medical equipment…” _

_ “...Cage Wallace...he and Dr. Tsing…” _

_ “...blood. There is something about the blood…” _

_ “...they are like us…” _

He sighed and dropped his head into his hands for a moment, weariness pressing heavily on his shoulders as he thought of what this could mean for their people. The radio connection had been unsteady, and he’d had trouble understanding everything Jasper said, and he wished Raven was available. She would have known what to do. He grimaced at the thought. She, Bellamy, and Octavia had disappeared, taking a few supplies with them. He was going to send out a search party, but then the damned arrow had flown over their walls, embedding itself deeply into the ground. 

He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out the scroll, carefully unrolling it and laying it next to the list of medical supplies from Jackson. He ran his finger lightly over the scroll, his finger scratching lightly on the rough material. It appeared to be made from vegetation or bark perhaps, maybe even from rags. He had to admire the craftsmanship. The paper was rough, the letters etched crudely into its surface, but it worked. It was more than serviceable, and the ink used hadn’t smeared. He wanted to know how to make it, and it relieved some of his worries about the grounders. They could read and write. They obviously had found ways to survive on earth, but their ways were...savage. 

He read the words again. They were stilted and a little awkward, but the message was clear: turn over the guards who had killed one of their own or suffer the consequences. And the consequences...he shuddered. War. They could not afford a war. They needed a way to survive on the ground, they needed allies. They needed Abby. He needed Abby, and there was only one way to save her. 

He carefully rolled the scroll back up and put it in his pocket, before grabbing the list from Jackson. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would talk to President Dante. 

************************* 

Clarke slipped out of the back of the tent and quickly walked to her own tent. Anya had persuaded her to take a nap after she had helped with Malcolm, and while she’d been exhausted, her mind wouldn’t slow down enough to let her sleep. She soon decided it was pointless, and the better idea would be to find Raven and Octavia. 

She had only spent a few minutes with them last night, slipping out of the tent while Anya and Lexa were otherwise preoccupied with dealing with the ambassadors again. 

She’d been relieved to see them looking somewhat clean, both eating stew they scooped up with chunks of bread. She’d been surprised to see Linnea in the tent, and the general had assured her she was only relieving Trin from guard duty so she could eat, but judging from the way that the general watched Raven out of the corner of her eye; Clarke was sure it was a flimsy excuse at best. 

She’d left them to eat and sleep, promising to see them tomorrow, and now it was tomorrow. 

She knocked on one of the wooden posts at the entrance of the tent, before poking her head in, only to find it empty. She frowned, before retreating, looking around the village, not spotting many familiar faces. She started walking, hoping to bump into them, but she didn’t see a familiar face until she reached the training grounds. 

“Skai Clarke!”

She turned quickly, smiling when she saw Callum sitting on a stump, his broken leg stretched out in front of him. He waved her over, dagger in his hand. Once she stood next to him, he shifted and patted the seat beside him. 

“Sit. Sit.” 

Clarke laughed and sat. She liked Callum. He was young, prone to telling jokes, but he took his duties as one of her guard details seriously. But she sobered quickly, as her gaze landed on his broken leg. It had been splinted and wrapped tightly in rags. A rough, wooden crutch lay on the ground next to him, within easy reach. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she gestured towards his leg, guilt making her drop her eyes. 

“You didn’t do this.” He shrugged. 

“But my people…”

“Your people did this, not you. You are not the sum of your people.” He nudged her in the shoulder. 

She glanced up at him, surprised by the seriousness of his words, but it made her smile slightly. Maybe he was right. She looked down again, noticing the pile of daggers for the first time. She nudged one with her toe. “What are you doing?”

“Ah...well, I can’t really train again yet, so I thought I would make myself useful by sharpening my daggers, and those of some of my fellow warriors.” He scooped one up, pulling the foot long blade from its leather sheath. The blade sharpened on both sides and glinted in the sunlight. The handle was wrapped tightly in leather, and he was able to balance it lengthwise on one finger. “See this one? It’s perfectly balanced. This is one of Je’Saris’ blades. It was forged by metalworkers from the Blue Cliff Clan. She traded a horse for this.” He chuckled as he carefully slid it back into its sheath before setting it aside. 

He picked up another dagger, and then showed her stone in his other hand. It was about six inches long, dark gray, and slightly porous. “Here, watch. It is important to always make sure your blade is sharp. The difference between life and death can be the sharpness of your blade.” 

She watched eagerly for a few minutes, mesmerized by his movements, as he carefully angled the blade and drew it across the stone. So engrossed was she in the simple rhythm of his work that it took a moment for her to realize that Octavia and Raven had found her. 

She jumped up  or tried to, stifling a small groan as her healing wounds throbbed . She hugged them both, letting herself indulge for a few moments in the warmth of their arms.  She had missed the other girls more than she cared to admit, and even though she knew that they would return to the Skaikru camp soon, she hoped they would stay a few more days - it was good to see familiar faces especially...especially…. Her heart seemed to shrink inside her chest as she thought of her mother.

She introduced them to Callum, chuckling a little when Octavia immediately started peppering Callum with questions about his daggers and how to properly sharpen them. Clarke looped her arm through Raven’s, pulling the other girl away as Octavia sat down next to Callum, listening intently to every word he spoke as he showed her how to sharpen the daggers. Soon she was helping him and didn’t even hear when Clarke and Raven said goodbye. 

They walked for a few minutes before stopping at the edge of the village. The plopped down on the grass, Raven almost falling as she tried to maneuver her leg, before Clarke wrapped her arms around her and guided her carefully into a sitting position. They leaned back against the giant, canopied tree, staring up into the branches and leaves, watching the passing clouds that flickered between the leaves. 

“Octavia fits in here,” Raven murmured after a moment. 

Clarke said nothing, just nodded. She’d realized it the moment Lincoln had been discovered. Octavia had bonded with him, fallen in love with him in a matter of days. She had adapted the quickest to their new life. She had found purpose here. She’d found a home. 

“Will they find him?” 

Clarke bit her lip, wondering herself what the answer was. She knew Lexa had been looking for him, and she was surprised, because Lincoln was apparently persona non-grata to the Trikru. He hadn’t been banished, but he wasn’t always welcome in every village. Lexa had refused to speak about it, simply pressing her lips together, and Clarke had quickly learned that it wasn’t anger so much that made Lexa not want to speak of Lincoln, but hurt. There was a deep pain there, but it was obvious to Clarke that Lincoln was important to Lexa, even if she wouldn’t admit it. 

“I hope so.” She shifted against the tree, trying to find a more comfortable spot, although that seemed foolish the moment she thought about it. Bark was bark, and this bark was not particularly soft. It dug into her still healing back, but she ignored it. She was learning to ignore pain, perhaps some of Lexa’s stoic personality was rubbing off on her. She chuckled. 

“What?” 

Clarke shook her head, “Nothing. It’s nothing like I ever imagined. It’s so much better. So much worse.” 

Raven nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. “Are you coming back with us? I mean assuming they let us go?” 

“I don’t know.” It took her a minute to admit it. “The situation here is precarious. The Trikru are angry. We’ve done nothing but hurt them since we arrived. We burned their village, blew up the bridge. I burned their warriors.” 

“No, Clarke. We. We burned their warriors, and we blew up the bridge. I’m in it as deep as you.” Raven looked down at her hands, worry burning a hole in her belly. “What are they going to do to us? The village? The bridge? Fuck, Clarke, we’ve killed a lot of their people.” 

Clarke nodded, “It’s been paid for. You don’t need to worry about it.” 

Raven turned her head, eyeing Clarke, who refused to look at her. “What do you mean, it’s been paid for?” 

Clarke clenched her jaw, her hand tightening in her lap. “Our crimes have been paid for. Wiped clean.” She growled a little, anger fluttering in her chest. “At least our debts were wiped clean, until they opened fire on us.” 

“Yeah? Well what the fuck did you expect, Clarke? You came when dusk was falling, the guards couldn’t see well!”

Clarke’s shoulders stiffened, and she jerked her head, facing Raven and glaring at her. “You didn’t have to shoot first! Malcolm is dead, and Anya…” she swallowed harshly, turning away from Raven and looking back up at the sky, salt stinging her eyes. 

Raven said nothing for long moments, “So...Anya?” She chuckled and nudged Clarke’s shoulder, smiling as Clarke blushed a little. 

“Yeah well…” Clarke blushed again, looking down at her hands before looking at Raven out of the corner of her eye. The other girl’s face was open and earnest, gentle affection warming her eyes, and Clarke couldn’t help but smile. Being at odds with Raven made her stomach heave violently and her chest ache. Their beginning hadn’t been easy, but they had quickly forged a bond far stronger than most she felt with anyone else. She would always need Raven, would always love her, and fighting with her made her hurt in ways she hadn’t realized were possible. 

“It isn’t just Anya, but Lexa also,” she mumbled, red staining her pale skin at the look of surprise and then glee that crossed Raven’s face. 

“Oh my god! Tell me everything!” Raven grabbed Clarke’s hand, holding it tightly in her own, listening intently as Clarke started from the beginning, explaining everything that had happened after she and Anya had jumped from the waterfall. 

Neither girl was aware of the solitary figure that stood in the shadows of the trees, watching quietly.

************************* 

The pyre burned, dark, heavy smoke curling slowly upwards, making the air heavy until Clarke thought her throat would close up, and she would stop breathing. She stood next to Lexa and Anya, forcing herself to watch the body burn, even as she wanted to turn her face away and let tears of grief fall to the ground. The heat of the flames made the air of the clearing shimmer, and as she looked on, the faces of her friends who stood on the other side of the pyre seemed to shimmer, until she couldn’t quite distinguish details anymore. 

She could feel Bellamy’s dark eyes on her, almost as hot as the fire itself and knew he had been watching her during the entire ceremony. Clarke would almost say his looks were resentful, but she couldn’t understand why. 

Smoke dimmed the evening’s waning light even further, and Clarke was grateful in a way that she couldn’t really see the faces of the people gathered around the pyre all that well, especially not those of Malcolm’s children. Her heart was full of sadness for them, as well as admiration for she remembered how she had cried, pleaded and screamed when her father was floated, while the children who were faced with the loss of a father at a much younger age, had not made a sound.

Villagers were moving among the crowd, bearing jugs made of animal skin and small tin cups. Everything was passed around, and Clarke found herself holding a cup, while one of Lexa’s handmaidens filled it to the brim with a clear liquid. 

“Drink it slowly,” Anya bent slightly to whisper into her ear, “it’s a herbs liquor made by the Horse clan and it is very, very strong.” 

Clarke nodded absently, taking one careful sip and grimacing right after, mouth on fire. She watched with round eyes as Anya downed her liquor in one long gulp and waved a maiden over to get another. 

Most of the assembled people took a few shots before dispersing, leaving the pyre to burn alone, long into the night. 

“Tonight we mourn,” Lexa placed a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, and the blonde allowed herself to be steered towards their tent, the last rays of the setting sun ghosting across her back, “tomorrow we will feast and remember Malcolm for the man he was. That’s what he would have wanted.” 

Inside Heda’s tent, the handmaidens had prepared the table for the Commander’s dinner, three sets of plates and cutlery neatly laid out and waiting for them. They sat as they had done before, Clarke in the middle and the other women on either side and the blonde didn’t protest when a full bowl of stew was placed in front of her, even if she was sure that everything would taste like ashes inside her mouth.

She picked at the food, chewing it slowly as her mind emptied of all thoughts but one. This grew, until no space was left for anything else, it pressed against the bones of her skull until Clarke thought her head would crack open.

“I don’t have a body to burn.” She mumbled finally, softly at first, and then repeated it louder, pushing the barely touched bowl of stew away. 

“I don’t have a body to burn.” 

It had taken hours to voice those simple words, which had first echoed in her mind after they had left Nyko to oversee the remaining preparations for Malcolm's sending off and solidified when she had watched the pyre burn. The blonde had let herself drift, the words slowly revolving inside her skull, building, growing like a festering bubble inside her head until it had burst and the phrase had spilled out of her mouth.

Both Anya and Lexa stopped eating, Anya carefully placing her wooden spoon back into her bowl of half eaten stew. She pushed the bowl away and propped her elbows up on the table, resting her chin in her hands. She sat at one end of the small table, Lexa at the other, and Clarke in the middle. She didn’t say anything for a moment, waiting for Lexa to say something. 

Anya watched quietly as Clarke curled into herself, her shoulders hunching, her face pale, fingers clenched in her lap, and she muttered a litany of unheard curses as Lexa fiddled with her spoon, tapping her fingers anxiously on the table. She glared at Lexa, who refused to meet her gaze, focusing on her bowl of stew. It wasn’t until Anya managed to kick her leg under the table, that Lexa finally turned her gaze to Clarke. 

“Clarke, I...we….” her voice died in her throat, and not for the first time, she wished that she knew how to express what she felt, that she knew the words that Clarke needed to hear. It was ironic that she knew how to rouse her warriors with impassioned speeches, incite them to fight harder and longer for her, but she didn’t know how to express her fear and sorrow to this girl,  who had started to matter so much, that sometimes Lexa thought her heart was like the ground they stood on, revolving around Clarke’s sun.

“When I was very young, too young to really remember, I was taken from my home village and sent to Polis, our capital city, to be trained for the Conclave that would choose our next Heda.” Her words were slow and halting as she carefully dug and dug until she unburied a memory that she had longed to forget. 

“I was so young that I don’t remember my parents,” she shrugged when Clarke suddenly looked up at her, a startled expression on her face, concern knitting fine lines around her eyes. “I was paired with another novitiate. He was three years older than me, a child himself, but he looked out for me.” She looked up, meeting Anya’s quiet stare, she too remembered this story. 

She rubbed the fingers along the scarred surface of the table, her voice quiet and low, “ He became my best friend, my confidante, my brother,” she whispered. “I had been in Polis for a couple years, I think I had seen six summers, maybe?” She shrugged again, sighing, “The spring rains came early that year, and the river was swollen, spilling past its banks. A couple of the dams had sprung leaks. The river was a wild thing, tearing up small trees and brush. Our kepa had warned us to stay away from the South Bank, where we liked to play.” 

Lexa stopped, her mind flashing back to that fateful day. 

_ “Lexa, if we get caught sneaking out, we’ll be punished. And you know Titus told us specifically not to go to the South Bank!” _

_ Lexa snorted, her mouth curling into a pout. “But Luca, we’ve been stuck in this tower for days! It’s finally stopped raining. Come on, please?” She smiled at him, batting her eyes as he laughed. She probably made a comical sight, missing her two front teeth, hands grubby from training, her hair nothing more than a wild, curly mane that refused to be confined to a braid.  _

_ He sighed, he had never been particularly good at telling her no, so he nodded. “Ok, but we have to be quiet and careful.” He held out his hand to her, and she reached out, clasping it with her own. They probably made quite the pair, he was tall and big for his age, his head shaved bald, his skin dark as the night sky, and she was small, the runt of the litter, skin pale, the mane of a lion. But they were inseparable, never leaving each other’s side, until that fateful moment when she’d fallen into the river, and he had jumped in after her, managing to heave her small body onto the shore, only for a large eddy to suck him under, tear him away from Lexa’s grasp.  _

_ She had run, screaming his name, her wails of fear and grief heard by the warriors on the wall. But nothing had ever been found of Luca, except for part of his shirt, a shirt torn and stained with blood. And that was how Lexa learned that sometimes the price of disobedience was the life of the one she loved.  _

Clarke felt the tears drip down her cheeks again, just when she had thought she was done crying for the day, but this time she didn’t cry for her mother or herself; but for a young Lexa who had lost so much at such a young age. 

“Sometimes, those we love….we can’t bring their bodies home, we can’t burn them and return their souls to the earth, from where they came. So instead we hold a vigil. We burn something that belonged to them, and we drink to their souls, and beg the All-Mother to take their souls to the stars. In Polis, we also light the floating candles, and they drift down the river to the waterfall. Once they pass the waterfall, the souls of those we lost ascend to the stars.” She smiled tremulously, reaching out and cupping Clarke’s wet cheek. “Perhaps it is fitting that we mourn and honor your mother this way. After all, she came from the stars, it is fitting that she be returned to them.”

“That is what you did for Luca?” 

Lexa felt the tears prick her eyes, and she looked up at Anya, smiling a little, “Sha, it was Anya who told me of the ceremony. It was she who snuck me out one night, and we drank this truly awful mead, that I later threw up on her shoes,” she chuckled a little as Anya snorted. 

“I was impressed that she even managed to keep it down as long as she did.” Anya leaned forward, tapping her palm lightly on the table and then turned her hand, palm up. She grinned when Clarke placed her hand in Anya’s. “But she did what was necessary. Luca liked to whittle, and so she burned some of his carvings, and then she chugged that mead like a grown warrior.” Anya shook her head, chuckling quietly, but it caught in the back of her throat. She had seen fourteen winters by then, a Seken to Gustus, and in another couple years, she would officially have her own Seken. That was the night, she’d known that Lexa would be the Seken she would choose. 

“Clarke, it would be our privilege to help you honor your mother’s passing, if you so choose.” 

Clarke nodded dumbly, her cheeks burning, her mind foggy. Her body ached, and she simply wanted to lay down. “Yes,” she choked out, “I would.” She looked up, her hands grasping at Anya and Lexa’s, “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do….I...mean...I...thank you,” she finished lamely, more tears splashing down her chin. 

Anya squeezed Clarke’s hand and then stood up, pushing her chair back. She knew Clarke wasn’t going to eat anymore, and maybe what she really needed was simply a quiet place, a safe place to simply let go. “Come on, Clarke,” she reached down and tugged Clarke gently up from the chair, scooping her up into her arms, worried that the blonde didn’t even protest. 

Anya eased her down onto the bed, and Lexa lit a few candles before sitting down on the bed next to Clarke, pushing her hair gently from her flushed face. “This will get better,” she murmured. She wasn’t good at soft reassurances, and she didn’t know really know what to say to Clarke, so she simply carded her fingers through Clarke’s hair, watching her eyes close softly. 

Anya puttered around the small room, not saying much, straightening items that didn’t need straightening, not ready to leave the room. “Is there anything you need, Clarke?” 

Clarke opened her eyes, brow crinkled before she blushed. “Actually,” she pushed herself up into a sitting position, smiling a little when two sets of arms immediately wrapped around her waist and helped her sit up. “Um...I could actually use a bath.” She wrinkled her nose, “It’s been a few days.” 

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Lexa nodded, face flushing suddenly at the thought of Clarke bathing. “Anya…” 

Anya nodded before ducking out of the room. She stepped into the outer room, wondering if she should call for the handmaidens to help, but decided to do it herself. She stoked the fire, and filled a few of the metal buckets with water, setting them on the large stones next to the fire to heat. She crouched next to the buckets, listening to the sounds of Lexa pulling out the tub as it thumped heavily on the floor. She could hear nervous chuckles and whispers as Lexa moved around the room, gathering everything needed, asking Clarke what kind of soap she wanted. She smiled when she heard the indecision in Clarke’s voice. She supposed it was probably a wealth of choices for the blonde, considering all of their resources on the Ark had been limited and carefully rationed. 

Once the water was heated, she grabbed a few rags to wrap around the handles and hefted a bucket in each hand. It took six buckets before Lexa judged the tub was filled enough to offer Clarke enough water in which to soak. She watched as Clarke sat on the bed, examining each cake of soap. They were all slightly different, scented differently thanks to the flowers and herbs and oils that had been used to create them. 

“This one, I think?” Clarke held a cake of cream colored soap with deep green veins running through it. Anya was surprised that she had chosen such a strong, heavy scent. She had thought she would choose one of the cakes with the honeysuckle buds or maybe even the light purple cake with dark purple and pink swirls. It smelled liked the flowering bushes that Lexa had planted in Polis, and it was her favorite. 

Anya smiled, “I would have bet you’d have gone with the purple cake.” She pointed to the cake of soap resting in Clarke’s lap.

“Oh well, I really like this one too, but this one smells more like both….” her voice trailed off, and she blushed before biting her lip and dropping her head for a moment. 

“Like what?” 

“You,” muttered Clarke. She looked up and sighed, rolling her eyes theatrically, “this is the closest one that smells like both of you. It smells like those trees. The ones with the green pointed needles.” She shrugged, her courage deserting her, “and you both smell like that sometimes.” 

“Pine. This is made from the needles of the pine and balsam trees.” Lexa took the cake of soap, a small bemused smile playing about her lips. Clarke’s words, her apparent desire to be reminded of how they smelled made her belly tighten and warm. She pulled a small knife out of her boot, and started to shave small slivers off the soap, letting them fall into the water. Once she’d shaved off a small handful, she motioned for Anya, who started splashing and swirling her hands in the warm water, creating small bubbles of soap. 

“You can try the other one next time if you wish. You can try them all, use them all. They are yours,” Lexa finished in a rush, pointedly ignoring Anya’s amused look at her sudden excitement. 

“Thank you, Lexa, I’d like that.” Clarke stood up, moving the rest of the soap to the side and looked down at the tub and then at Anya and Lexa who were still standing there watching her. “Um...I think I can take it from here?”

“Oh!” Lexa suddenly turned, embarrassment flooding her cheeks and turning them ruby red. “Yes, of course. Right. I mean...of course you don’t need us here.” She looked back at Clarke and then at Anya, “um...right?” 

Anya pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “Ok, do you need help with your hair?” 

Clarke looked down at the tub for a moment and then back up at Anya and shuffled her feet. “Um...yes, actually, I think I do. I don’t think I can raise my hands above my head enough to…they ache a bit from helping Nyko.” 

Clarke immediately held up her hand, stopping the protests about to fall from Lexa’s lips as the older girl reached out to touch her arm, worry scrunching her brow. “I’m fine. I needed to do it. For Malcolm.” 

Both Anya and Lexa nodded and slipped out of the room to allow Clarke to change, just as one of the guards announced himself at the door. Lexa waved him inside to hear his report, and he told her that two of Anya’s warbands had returned from patrols with news. 

Anya nodded and turned to Lexa after the guard had left, “I need to hear their reports. I’m sure they are at the cook fires, so I will hear them there and then bring back food for the three of us.” She turned back to the smaller room where Clarke was, waiting for the blonde to bid her enter. 

Anya hesitated in the doorway, her vision filled with pale skin and soap bubbles. The bubbles were just barely high enough to hide the bottoms of Clarke’s breasts, and she was sure if she looked hard enough, she would be able to see the younger woman’s nipples, but she refrained. But it still took her a moment to find her voice, “I have to go and hear the reports from my warbands who’ve just returned from patrol. I will bring back food though. You barely ate your dinner. Is there anything you want in particular? Maybe that fruit you like so much?” 

Clarke could feel the heat of Anya’s gaze crawling up her neck and into her cheeks. She shook her head, before turning her attention back to the bubbles in the water. She’d heard about bubble baths, but she’d never experienced one, and she had to admit she enjoyed playing with the bubbles, scooping them up and blowing on them. 

Anya smiled a little and stepped closer, grasping the edges of the tub, bracketing Clarke between her arms. She leaned down, inches from Clarke and waited patiently until the blonde leaned forward and kissed her, pressing her mouth firmly against Anya’s. 

It lasted longer than their first kiss, and Clarke raised her soapy palms, cupping Anya’s cheeks, kissing her again. When she let her hands fall, she laughed at the streaks of bubbles she left on Anya’s face. “You have a white beard, Anya.” 

The older woman chuckled and rolled her eyes, before grabbing a rag and wiping it off her face. Anya walked around the tub, slipping one arm around Lexa’s waist and pulling her firmly against herself. She pressed her hips into Lexa’s, so the girl could feel her, and she dropped a chaste kiss on her lips before stepping back and looking at the two of them. 

“No, hanky panky until I get back,” she teased, slapping Lexa on the butt much to Clarke’s amusement and Lexa’s horror, before she sauntered out the door. 

Clarke laughed as Lexa continued to splutter indignantly at getting her butt slapped. “What’s the matter, Heda? No one ever slap your butt before?” She licked her lips, her gaze never leaving Lexa’s, “No one ever spank you before?” 

Lexa choked, as heat scoured her cheeks. She shook her head and muttered, “No one spanks Heda.” 

“Uh huh,” murmured Clarke as she leaned back in the tub before remembering suddenly, “um do you have a rag or something I can wash with?” 

Lexa nodded and walked over to the chest, pulling out a rag to wash with, having at least already remembered to set out a towel. She handed it and the cake of soap to Clarke. “I’ll be just outside. Call me when you need me.” 

Twenty minutes later, Lexa returned carrying a stool, bucket of warm water, and a mug. She set it down behind the tub and sat down. “Ready?” 

She dipped the mug into the water and carefully started wetting Clarke’s hair. Once she was done, she soaped up her hands and started to wash her hair. Neither woman spoke, both content to just listen to the soft sounds of Lexa helping Clarke bathe. 

“Thank you.” 

Lexa almost missed her words, but she smiled, and scooped some clean water to splash it over Clarke’s head, wringing out the soap. 

“So...are you ever going to kiss me?”  Clarke had been dying to ask and watch Lexa falter, the Commander’s perfect facade cracking to reveal the tender woman beneath. And she’d wondered how Lexa’s lips would feel against her own since she had kissed Anya. Her mouth looked a bit fuller, not that Anya’s wasn’t soft, and the blonde thought with a blush that she could just spend hours kissing them both.

Lexa fumbled the mug in her hand, dropping it back into the water. Her cheeks burned, and she was glad Clarke couldn’t see her embarrassment. She coughed, trying to clear her throat enough so that she wouldn’t squeak like a young boy. “Sha. I mean...yes...of course,” she stuttered, all the while mentally cursing her ineptitude. 

“When?”

She almost choked at the sound of Clarke’s soft, teasing voice. And she could feel the blood thundering in her ears, and it reminded her vaguely of the first time she’d ever kissed Costia. She thought she would faint back then, and she was sure she might actually die of both embarrassment and desire while sitting impotently on the stool now. She wanted to groan and slap herself, but instead she took a steadying breath, reminding herself that she was Heda, Commander of Blood, who ruled twelve clans. The prospect of a kiss should not discombobulate her so much, nor turn her brain to mush. 

She tried to chuckle, but her dry mouth made it sound more like a weary croak. “When you least expect it of course.”

Clarke nodded solemnly, “Of course.” Her eyes twinkled, and she looked down at the water, hiding her smile behind her veil of wet, brassy hair. She decided to take pity on the obviously flustered commander, but before she could ask her an innocuous question about something that didn’t actually matter, she felt Lexa’s palm close around the top of her shoulder. 

“Klark?” 

The voice was soft, husky, and it sent a shiver down Clarke’s spine that had nothing to do with the rapidly cooling water. She leaned back and looked up, tilting her head back as far as it would go in an effort to see Lexa. She waited patiently for her vision to fill with Lexa’s face. She was rewarded after a moment, when bright green eyes, high cheekbones, and a waterfall of curly brown hair filled her vision. It took a moment to focus on the upside down face, filling her vision. But the moment she saw the tender light in her green eyes, she smiled. 

“Leska.” 

Lexa bent down, her face inches from Clarke, her hair falling down around their faces, cutting them off from the rest of the world. She cupped Clarke’s cheeks, her palms warm against the side of Clarke’s face, her thumbs tracing the edges of her chin, and she pressed her lips gently against Clarke’s. It was awkward, her nose bumping gently against Clarke’s chin, but when Clarke opened her mouth softly under Lexa’s, Lexa could do no more than sigh, her lips curving into a grin against Clarke’s mouth. 

Her muscles trembled in excitement as her lips delicately explored the heat of Clarke’s lips and mouth, and she wasn’t sure who moaned, but they both swallowed it gently. She felt wet arms clasp around her neck, pulling her closer, and when they eventually broke apart, she immediately felt the loss. 

Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa’s neck, arching her back enough that it soon became uncomfortable, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the feel of Lexa’s lips against her’s, the taste of her mouth, and the warmth of her heart. When Lexa pulled away slightly, only to bury her face in Clarke’s wet neck, she could do nothing but hold her tighter. 

“You’ve undone me, Klark. And I don’t know what to do.” The words were faint, painted against the skin of Clarke’s neck, but each one struck like an arrow, piercing her flesh, until she felt as if she would bleed Lexa for the rest of her life. 

She wrapped her arms tighter around Lexa, pulling her down as far as she could without drowning her, and she felt Lexa’s arms slide under her shoulders, dipping into the water to slide around her waist. It was wet and awkward, and her muscles ached with the strain, but it didn’t matter. 

“Just hold on, Leska,” she whispered against the salt of Lexa’s cheek. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Next chapter ought to be a bit of a rollercoaster.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More stuff was supposed to happen in this chapter, but like...the smut took up around 4,000 words. So yeah. There's that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things be progressing! Sorry, the plot didn't really move ahead in this chapter. I'm thinking no one is going to mind too much. More plot in next chapter!

Anya tensed for a moment, her arms tightening ever so slightly around Clarke’s shoulders from where the younger girl was laying almost sprawled out on top of her. She slipped her other arm behind her head, under the pillow, her fingers immediately wrapping around the handle of the small, hidden blade. 

But she relaxed quickly when she realized the sound she heard was Lexa trying not to fumble in the dark as she entered the bedchamber. She slipped her hand out from under her pillow, smiling at the sound of Lexa’s muffled curse as she inevitably stubbed her toes against the chest at the foot of the bed. 

It was only a few minutes before she felt the mattress dip next to her, and she raised her arm, smiling when Lexa slid into place, pressing her body against Anya’s side. She wrapped her arm tightly around Lexa’s shoulders, drawing her even more snugly into her side. She pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, rubbing her chin lightly across her hair. 

“Did you manage not to kill any of the ambassadors?” 

Lexa snorted and then winced, ducking her head to peer at the pale face only a few inches from her own. She smiled softly, noting that the usual furrow between Clarke’s brows was less noticeable, and she seemed to be sleeping deeply.

“I just barely managed to refrain from gutting the Azgeda ambassador, although it was the Sankru ambassador who really grated on my nerves. His voice is always sickly sweet, and he speaks with a forked tongue.  Him, I just want to stake out onto an ant hill in the desert,” she growled.

Anya choked on her laugh, trying desperately not to wake Clarke who still lay quietly, her arm slung across Anya’s belly, head resting on her shoulder and chest. “Your restraint is admirable, Heda.” 

Lexa just grumbled, burying her nose in Anya’s shoulder, inhaling the warm, salty scent of her. “Tomorrow is the feast. Is she ready?”

“Is anyone ever ready to say goodbye to those they love?” 

Lexa sighed, nodding her head against Anya’s breast. “I think it must have been different for them. Up in the sky. I think they lived much longer than we did.”

“Sha, perhaps death didn’t walk with them the way it walks with us.” Anya craned her neck slightly so she could look down at Lexa’s pensive face. 

“War was not their way. Clarke said they compromised and negotiated. They had a council, who were chosen by the people to represent them. But they had a king...a chancellor, they called him. They could not afford fighting, because war would have cost them all their lives up there. But here...war is a way of life. It is how we solve things,” Lexa sighed heavily, too tired to think more about how disparate their lives were. 

“Not anymore. You changed that, Lexa. You united the clans.” 

Lexa chuckled softly, her voice devoid of humor though, “Yes, and they still push me at every turn. Their first instinct is war. They would rather draw their swords than use their words. The clans are angry, they are pushing for war.”

“We need to prove that the Skaikru have worth, that they can be an ally, part of the Coalition.” 

Anya tensed slightly, surprised at Lexa’s words. “Part of the Coalition?” She asked carefully. 

“Sha. If they aren’t part of the Coalition, then they are an enemy. That is how the clans will see it. And if they are an enemy, then they are free for the taking.” Lexa shifted slightly, bringing her arm that she had slung across Anya’s thigh, up to wrap it around her hips. She nuzzled her face into Anya’s shoulder. 

“No more talk. Sleep.” She yawned, knowing she would have to be up in a few hours again. She felt Anya kiss the top of her head again, and she drifted off, wrapped in Anya’s arm, her hand brushing against Clarke’s arm; it was the barest touch, but enough that she felt grounded by her connection to the younger girl.  She eased into sleep, a small smile upon her lips. 

***********************

Clarke blinked her eyes open, yawning and shifting slightly against Anya. She could feel the older woman waking up, and she tilted her head back to press a gentle kiss against the other woman’s chin. She rolled away from her, groaning lightly and mumbling under her breath at the insistent pressure in her lower abdomen. 

She shook her head, pushing Anya’s hands away when the general tried to pull her back down. “Uff, no. I have to use the privy.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, stretching as her muscles seized slightly. The bed really was not made for three people, but it was worth it, she decided. She hobbled out of the tent, trying to loosen her muscles as she went. 

Anya yawned, stretching her arms high over her head. She rolled onto her side, against Lexa, and when she pressed herself against the other woman, she felt her cock twitch, and she groaned at the sudden pressure that hadn’t been noticeable until now. She rolled her eyes in irritation, palming herself, noting how hard and erect she was. She took a few deep breaths, willing herself to think of anything but the warm body laying in front of her, the soft curves of Lexa’s ass, the heavy weight of Clarke’s breasts. 

She groaned in irritation, rolling onto her back. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her erection to go away. She wasn’t an untrained goufa at the mercy and whims of her own body, and she clenched her fists in frustration, before finally giving up. 

She reached into her shorts, palming her hot cock, and started squeezing it rhythmically. She pushed her shorts down to her thighs, and wrapped her hand around her cock, and dragged her fist up the length, twisting at the head, and sliding her hand back down. She repeated it a few times, but it did nothing to push her towards a quick orgasm. She growled in frustration, running her thumb over the leaking head, spreading the pre-cum to make her strokes easier. 

Lexa shifted and rolled onto her back, her shoulder catching Anya’s arm. She pushed herself into a sitting position when she heard the other woman grunt. She rubbed her eyes, dropping her face into her hands for a moment, her eyes gritty from lack of sleep. She was going to just kill all the ambassadors and be done with it. Well, maybe only the Azgeda and Sankru. She sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, only to freeze when she felt Anya moving next to her the tell-tale signs of her masturbating reaching Lexa’s ears. 

“Really, Anya?” She rolled her eyes and chuckled as she twisted to look at the woman, who looked anything but happy. She wrinkled her nose slightly, noting Anya’s cock head was turning a light purple color, and her lover was gritting her teeth, her eyes anxious, brow furrowed. 

“What’s wrong? Where’s Clarke?” 

“Privy,” she grunted, as she continued to stroke herself, muttering unintelligible words under her breath. She blew the hair out of her face in a huff, before her hand came to a rest, pressing her aching cock against her belly. 

“Does she know you woke up with that?” 

Anya shook her head, throwing her other arm across her eyes. She wanted to kick her legs like a petulant goufa. Her cock was throbbing, and it was bordering on painful, and she couldn’t make herself cum. 

“Get rid of it.” 

Anya snarled, tearing her arm away from her face. “What the jok do you think I’m trying to do!” She huffed again, squeezing her cock, whimpering lightly. “It won’t go away, and this isn’t working.” 

Lexa rolled her eyes,  “well try harder. Clarke is still hurt and as much as we may want...I mean… she isn’t ready. And with the ritual tomorrow probably not even in the mood.”

Anya growled and pulled herself into a sitting position, her hard cock slapping her belly. “You know, this would go a lot better if you helped me out.” She gestured towards her cock, and tried to smile charmingly at Lexa, but it was lost on the other girl. 

Lexa rolled her eyes, her mood already soured from lack of sleep and the meeting from the night before. The stress of the last few days and the ongoing problems with the ambassadors had made her quick to temper. 

“Never mind. I’ll duck out to the river, hopefully the cold will do the job.” Anya heaved herself to her feet, stumbling as her shorts caught around her thighs. She grabbed them, yanking them up, wincing as the fabric chafed over her sensitive cock. 

Lexa felt her heart plummet to her belly, and she raised a shaky hand to her forehead, rubbing at the furrows digging too deeply. “Anya, wait. No. I’m sorry,” she murmured. She clambered off the bed, walking around the end to stand in front of Anya, her back to the doorway. 

She wrapped her hands around Anya’s hips, pressing a soft kiss to her chin. “I’m sorry. I know it’s been a while. Just with everything….” she shrugged helplessly, leaning her forehead against Anya’s shoulder, her stomach roiling lightly as her anxiety spiked. She had enough troubles without being out of sync with Anya. When she felt long arms wrap around her and pull her close, she sighed heavily, her shoulders drooping, sagging against Anya in relief. 

After a moment she pulled back and gently pushed Anya back onto the bed, pulling her shorts all the way off her long legs. “Lay back,” she commanded, her voice firm, but her eyes twinkling at Anya. She skimmed her palms up Anya’s thighs, kneading them before cupping Anya’s balls in one hand, and stroking her cock with the other. 

“You don’t have to do this,” muttered Anya, as she fisted the furs beneath her, her thighs tightening in anticipation. She didn’t bother to stifle the groan when she felt Lexa’s hot mouth close around the head of her cock. 

Lexa sucked gently on the head of her cock, rubbing her tongue on the underside, before releasing it with a soft, wet pop. “Do you really want me to stop?” 

Anya jerked her hips, whimpering quietly, “Gaia, no!” 

“Thought so,” muttered Lexa, smugness coloring each word. She pumped Anya’s cock firmly, her tongue teasing the divot at the the top, coaxing more pre-cum out. She gently rolled her balls in her hand, letting her fingers lightly play along the sensitive skin. She licked and kissed her way down Anya’s length, coaxing the vein underneath to stand out, before laving it with her tongue. She continued to pump Anya’s length, enjoying the way it pulsed in her hand. She sucked on the sensitive head, before slowly taking it fully into her mouth, sliding her mouth and tongue down Anya’s cock, until it hit the back of her throat. She sucked in her cheeks, creating a hard suction, and pulled slowly off Anya’s cock. She followed the movement with her hand, pumping and twisting her fist up and down on Anya’s cock, while she turned her attention back to her head. 

She licked around it, sucking and lashing the sensitive underside with her tongue. She slurped messily across the tip of her cock, knowing how Anya loved the sound, and the feel of her saliva coating it. She sucked the head eagerly, pumping her cock still. She moved her other hand, behind anya’s balls, searching for the firm muscles between her balls and starburst. She caressed it gently, at first, smiling when Anya groaned and opened her legs wider, lifting her hips off the bed. She pressed firmly on the muscle, massaging it while Anya jerkily pumped her hips.

Clarke walked back into the tent, her journey back from the privy taking longer than she’d anticipated, since she’d run into Octavia who had excitedly told her that the chief of Ton DC, Indra, had asked her to to train as her Seken. 

She ambled over to the bedchamber, her mind still a little fuzzy from sleep, her limbs heavy with the remnants of exhaustion. But she she froze when she heard a moan, and she grasped the heavy leather flap in her hand, suddenly worried that Lexa or Anya was having a nightmare. But the sounds of muted voices stopped her again. 

“Jok, Lexa, sha...sha...right there. D-don’t...don’t stop.” The words were mumbled and broken by gasps, and Clarke’s cheeks burned when she realized what was happening. She hesitated, unsure if she should walk away or enter. She didn’t want to interrupt them, but the fluttering in her belly, and her heart beating in her ears was signs enough that she wanted nothing more to step into the room and be a part of what was happening. Even if she only watched. 

She licked her suddenly dry lips, her heart racing faster at the thought of watching the two of them touch each other, kiss each other, tangle their legs together…  It was almost too much for her mind to process, the picture her thoughts conjured-one of swaying hips and sweat slicked bodies meeting and rocking in their lovemaking. She squeezed her thighs together, suddenly all too aware of the gathering moisture in her underwear. She grinned ruefully, knowing she’d already made her decision. 

She slipped into the smaller room, her gaze immediately finding Anya and Lexa. She bit her lip at the sight of Anya laying cross ways on the bed, her legs hanging off. Her sleek, muscles were prominently displayed, as they tensed and twitched under glistening olive skin. Her knuckles were white, her fingers digging deeply into the furs underneath her body. 

She felt her belly tighten, as she raked her gaze over Anya, until her eyes fell upon Lexa’s form, clad only in a binder and small shorts. Her back was to Clarke, and while Clarke couldn’t see her face, she knew exactly what Lexa was doing, as she bobbed her head up and down. She couldn’t squelch the tiny whimper at the thought of Lexa’s pouty lips wrapped around Anya’s straining cock. 

She clapped her hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Lexa froze where she was kneeling, her eyes flitting up to Anya’s, heat flooding her cheeks. She pulled back, letting Anya’s wet cock, slap against her belly. She winced when Anya groaned in protest, but she sat back on her heels, as Anya carefully sat up. 

“Um...uh...we were..just…” Anya croaked, her words dry and broken. She felt heat crawl up her neck, and she covered her groin with both hands, unsure why she felt as if she had been caught doing something wrong. 

Lexa shuffled around slowly, twisting her body so she could meet Clarke’s gaze. She gave her a tremulous smile, relieved to see that the blonde was smiling at her. She felt her heart leap and thud painfully in her chest, as she watched Clarke’s warm, blue eyes. But as she continued to stare at them, she watched as they slowly widened and darkened to a slate blue; and when the blonde licked her lips, Lexa felt a wave of giddiness sweep up into her chest. 

“Please. Don’t stop on my account,” Clarke husked as she inched closer, her eyes hungrily mapping every inch of the scene in front of her. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, worrying it needlessly as she felt the heat gathering in her belly. 

She turned to Lexa, focusing on the flush in the other girl’s cheeks, how her eyes had darkened, her pupils slightly blown. “Do you need a hand?” 

Anya gasped, falling back on the bed with a thump. “Please,” she muttered hoarsely. Her muscles trembled at the thought of Clarke also touching her, and when she heard the girl step closer, heard the sound of her dropping to her knees, she felt her cock twitch hard, another fat dollop of pre-cum dripping down her hot length. 

Lexa’s mouth dropped open slightly, and she could feel the very tips of her ears burning, as she shuffled, making room for Clarke. She turned her head, her face inches from Clarke’s, and when she saw the other girl move, her eyes fluttered closed. 

Clarke couldn’t resist, and she leaned in, brushing her lips across Lexa’s. She pressed a little more firmly, humming when Lexa opened her mouth, and she immediately seized control of the kiss, wrapping her hand around the back of Lexa’s neck and pulling the girl toward her. She slanted her mouth against Lexa’s, her tongue dipping into her mouth, tangling with Lexa’s, as she lost herself in the feel and taste of Lexa. 

Anya pulled herself up onto her forearms, watching as Lexa and Clarke kissed. She could feel her cock pulse and twitch, the pressure built up so much that it hurt. And while she longed to feel both of their mouths on her skin, wrapped around her cock, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them eagerly exploring each other for the first time. It felt right. It felt like home. 

Clarke reluctantly pulled back, pressing soft kisses along Lexa’s chin, across her cheeks and nose. “We should probably take care of Anya. She looks like she’s in need of some attention,” she murmured, her voice inflected with just enough lust and humor to let both know she wanted this. All of this. 

Lexa nodded dumbly, her brain fuzzy. She felt almost dizzy from Clarke’s kisses, the way her mouth had fit against her own, the way her tongue had licked inside her mouth, plundering and mapping every inch of it, clearly staking her claim. 

She shook her head a little, trying to clear it, before turning her attention back to Anya. She winked at the older woman, whose eyes widened even more as she stared down at them both. Lexa shuffled over more, making more room. She pushed at Anya’s legs, and the older woman gladly complied, opening them wider to give them both more room. 

She groaned the moment she felt first one, and then a second pair of lips brush against her cock, and soon Lexa and Clarke had established a rhythm of one of them licking and sucking at the head of her cock, while the other nibbled and licked along the length. She could barely hold herself upright, on her forearms as she watched them alternate bobbing up and down on her cock. She could feel her muscles tightening and shaking, the pressure almost unbearable at the base of her cock. 

Clarke sucked gently on the tip of Anya’s cock. Her touch had been hesitant at first, but she quickly adapted to the silky feel of her cock. She sucked more of her pre-cum into her mouth. It was salty, with an edge of bitterness, but it tasted almost sweet when she swallowed it. She circled the bulbous head with her tongue, her mouth bumping Lexa’s, as the other girl licked along the prominent vein on Anya’s cock. 

Clarke sucked hard on her head, letting her mouth fill with weak spurts of pre-cum, before she deliberately slurped across the head, her mouth immediately finding Lexa’s. She pushed her tongue into Lexa’s mouth, eagerly kissing the other girl. She stroked her tongue with her own, letting Lexa taste Anya’s juice. 

Lexa groaned, her hand tightening around Anya’s shaft, as she pressed her mouth harder against CLarke’s. She could taste Anya, and she eagerly licked and tangled her tongue with Clarke’s, eager for more of Anya and Clarke’s taste. The kiss was messy and filthy, and she felt like she was floating under the onslaught, her senses flooded with both Anya and Clarke. 

She could feel the hot weight of Anya in her hand, taste Anya’s essence on her tongue, taste Clarke’s soft whimpers and sighs on her tongue. She could smell the other girl, slightly sweaty and too warm, wisps of pine mixing with her natural scent. She could smell Anya, warm and salty, earth and sunlight. She shuddered, pulling back from Clarke slightly. She grinned at the way the other girl whimpered, before she pressed her face into Clarke’s neck, whispering into her ear. And then she slipped her index finger into Clarke’s mouth, groaning at the feel of the girl’s tongue wrapping around her finger. She pulled her finger out of her mouth, watching as the string of spit eventually broke. Her finger was coated in bubbly saliva, and she nodded to Clarke. 

Clarke nodded and then turned her attention back to Anya. She took her cock in her mouth again, bobbing up and down, sucking lightly on the tip, and then pushing back down onto her cock. She felt it nudge the back of her throat, and she remembered to breathe through her nose. 

Lexa reached under Anya, probing lightly against her starburst with her wet finger. She circled the tight ring of muscle, smiling when she felt it relax a little. She pressed firmly, looking up at Anya who nodded her head jerkily. She pressed in, letting her finger slide into the first knuckle. 

Anya jerked her hips, a loud groan punched out of her chest, as she felt Lexa’s finger press firmly into her ass. It burned briefly, but the pressure and the hard, small length coupled with Clarke’s mouth sucking on the head of her cock proved to be too much, and she jerked her hips, the muscles in her abdomen straining as she felt the pressure ripple up her cock. 

“I..I’m...Clarke...cumming...Lex-aaaaah.” She was cumming before she finished the words, and she felt the heat tingle and burn through her muscles, zipping up her spine. She dropped back onto the bed, pleasure coursing through her veins, as she shakily pumped her hips, releasing long spurts of cum into Clarke’s mouth. She wanted to watch, but she couldn’t, her muscles too weak to hold her up. She could only groan and whimper at the feel of Clarke’s mouth swallowing around her, the feel of Lexa’s finger lightly pumping in her ass.

It was long moments before she stopped shaking and twitching. Her muscles felt loose and heavy, and her heart thumped harshly against her ribs. She was dimly aware of a weight on her thighs, and she craned her neck to glance down, smiling at the sight of Clarke’s blond hair splashed across her thigh and abdomen from where the girl rested her head,  and Anya could feel her shaking slightly, her healing muscles twitching in protest at the unexpected exertion . She could hear Lexa shuffling around, knowing she was cleaning up. 

She pulled herself into a sitting position, her muscles still weaker than she wanted to admit to, but eager to touch both Clarke and Lexa. She reached down, combing her fingers through Clarke’s hair. “That was…” she blew her breath out noisily. “It was perfect. Thank you,” she murmured as she slipped her hand under Clarke’s face, coaxing the girl to her feet and to the bed. 

She pulled Clarke down on top of her, turning her face to look at Lexa. She held her hand out to Lexa, grinning wickedly when the girl took it. She pulled her suddenly down onto the bed, laughing when the girl squealed. She wrapped her arms around both, nuzzling her face into Lexa’s neck, kissing and sucking at her pulse. 

Lexa groaned, enjoying the feel of Anya’s hot mouth on her skin. She could feel the moisture in her shorts, but she also knew they didn’t have enough time. She reluctantly pulled back, bringing her hand up to Anya’s face. She stroked her cheek tenderly before leaning down and kissing her. They kissed for a moment, pressing their mouths together, tongues flicking against each other, before she pulled back and rested her forehead against Anya’s. 

“We don’t have time,” she sighed, regret coloring each word. 

Anya growled, “we have time.” She slipped her hand between Lexa’s legs, feeling the heat and moisture despite the tight shorts she wore. She scratched lightly with her fingertips, grinning at the way Lexa immediately opened her legs wider. She slid her other hand down over Clarke’s bottom, squeezing the muscle in her hand, her mouth quickly finding Clarke’s. 

Clarke groaned and opened her mouth, sucking Anya’s tongue into her mouth. She pressed her hips down against Anya’s. She spread her legs, so she was straddling Anya, and she pressed her cloth-covered sex against Anya’s cock, shivering at pressure between her legs. She held herself up with one hand,  arm quivering with the effort , while her other fumbled, until fingers pressed against Lexa’s belly. She scratched her abs lightly, enjoying the way they both shivered. She could feel the heat curling in her belly, wetness growing between her thighs. 

She was sure she had a dark stain on her gray underwear at this point, and she didn’t care. She only cared about the taste of Anya’s mouth, the way her cock was starting to harden again, nestled against her sex, the feel of Lexa’s silky skin stretched taught over firm muscles. She slid her hand up, her palm finding Lexa’s breast. 

The three of them pushed and pressed against each other, their lips and mouths skating across whatever flesh they could find, their limbs tangled with each other. They moved and rocked, breathy moans and gasps falling from their mouths, as they chased their pleasure against each other’s mouths and hands. 

“He-Heda?” 

Lexa froze, her hips stuttering from where they had been rocking against Anya’s hand. She cursed, recognizing Alira’s voice. The handmaiden wasn’t stupid, she would only have interrupted Lexa if it was extremely important. 

She pulled back, trying to untangle herself from Anya and Clarke. She pushed away their grasping hands, gesturing wildly towards the outer room. 

“Heda, I’m sorry for the interruption. But you asked that you be told immediately if there was movement in the fourth quadrant.” 

Lexa fell to the floor with a thump, cursing again, as she scrambled to her feet, staring regretfully at Anya and Clarke, both of whom had stopped and were now trying to untangle themselves. She grabbed her pants, pulling them on quickly, ignoring her ruined shorts. She grabbed a vest and pulled it on, before stamping her feet into her boots, and quickly stepping into the outer room. 

“I’m here, Alira. Thank you. Please tell the scout I will meet him in the great hall in a few minutes.” Once the girl had nodded and stepped outside the tent, she breathed a sigh of relief, embarrassment burning her cheeks. She shook her head, quickly brushing her hands through her hair, trying to make herself more presentable. She waited for Anya to join her, regret stinging her cheeks at the thought of leaving Clarke alone in the tent. Alone and wanting. She groaned, looking upwards, trying to gather her wits about her. 

She could hear Anya moving around, undoubtedly trying to find her clothing. She waited for a moment before walking back into the smaller bedchamber. She stood in the doorway, watching as Anya finished belting her daggers on. Her gaze met Clarke’s, and she smiled ruefully at the pouting the blonde. 

“I’m sorry, Clarke. Duty calls.” 

Clarke grunted and nodded. “Duty sucks.” 

The bark of laughter that burst from Lexa’s chest, surprised them all, and within a moment, they were all laughing. Anya joined Lexa, handing the younger woman her dagger, which she slipped into her belt. Lexa stepped up to the bed, leaning down and cupping Clarke’s chin in her hand. She pressed her mouth against Clarke’s, before pulling back. “I’m sorry to leave you in such a state. I don’t know when we’ll be back. Just call for Alira when you are hungry.” 

Clarke nodded and shifted on the bed, beckoning to Anya, “Kiss me and then go,” she commanded, smirking at the way Anya’s eyes widened. Once the general had done as she’d been told, Clarke lay back on the bed. She slipped her hand down her shorts, smirking at the way both Lexa and Anya’s eyes widened. “Enjoy your meeting.” She shuddered as her fingers found her wet heat, and she whimpered at the feel of her juices coating her finger. “I’ll be here. Doing this.” She smirked again as they both stuttered and shuffled their feet. 

Lexa shook her head, chuckling as she turned and left the bedchamber, pulling Anya with her. 

“She did that on purpose, knowing we wouldn’t be able to think about anything else,” groused Anya. 

Lexa nodded, “It was very well played. She guaranteed that we would only think of her, and that we would return quickly to her side.” 

Anya nodded, her fingers rubbing the worn handle of her dagger. “This had better be a quick meeting,” she grumbled. 

******************** 

It was not a quick meeting, and Clarke eventually gave up hoping that Lexa and Anya would return to the tent soon. After washing and eating, she went back to her own tent, grabbing the pieces of parchment and charcoal that Lexa had given her, along with the small pot of honeycomb. There was very little left, but it was enough, at least she hoped it was enough for a bribe. She made her way to the horse pens, intent upon seeing Honeycomb again. She hadn’t been able to visit in a couple of days, and she knew he would probably be in an ill-temper, because she had ignored him of late. She chuckled under her breath at the thought of him angrily swishing his tail at her, presenting her with his back every time he was miffed at her or sulking. 

It didn’t take long to get to the pen, and she carefully clambered up the fence to sit on the top rung. It took a moment to situate herself, but once she had set the pot on the top of the piling, she whistled for Honeycomb. She smiled when he turned his big head towards her, and just as she had thought, he snuffed the air and went back to grazing. 

“Come on, Honeycomb. I’m sorry, ok!” She felt a little silly calling out to the horse, but she knew only a humble apology would probably coax him over. She sighed and pulled the top off the jar of honeycomb and held it out to him. She rolled her eyes, when he snuffed again and turned his back on her completely, swishing his tail at her. 

“Really? Really! So you’re going to be like that, eh?” She shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Ok, fine. Well, guess I’ll just have to eat this delicious honeycomb all by myself.” She dipped her fingers into the pot, pulling her fingers back out dripping with honey. She sucked them into her mouth, making a great show of how good it was. She licked and loudly slurped her fingers, smirking when the big red turned his head towards her, flicking his ears, before tossing his head and presenting his back to her again. 

“Mmmmm….it’s so good. All this honey. Just for me!” She smirked again when she watched him slowly start to back up, moving closer to her, still presenting his back and rump to her. She tried not to laugh as she dipped her finger back into the pot, loudly slurping. 

“Mmmmm...all mine,” she groaned, not exactly untruthfully. 

“Having fun?” 

Clarke yelped in surprise, throwing her arms out wide as she helplessly pinwheeled her arms trying to maintain her balance. She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the sharp jolt of her back and butt hitting hard, compacted earth, but instead she landed in someone’s arms with a whump. 

“Uff. I’ve got you. Just relax.”

Clarke stopped struggling, and allowed the other person to push her back into a sitting position on the top run of the fence. She turned and smiled at her savior, blushing slightly. “Thanks, Linnea. I was trying to…” she gestured with the hand that still held the jar of honey towards Honeycomb, who had finally deigned to turn around and look at her. 

Linnea laughed as she propped her foot up on the bottom run and rested her arms on the top rung. “Oh, I could see what you were doing. Trying to bribe him, eh?” 

Clarke blushed and shrugged. “Yeah well...he’s temperamental.” She chuckled and looked back at the horse who was inching closer. She pulled out a piece of honeycomb and held it out to him, “Come on, stop being a big baby. I’m sorry I didn’t come visit. Here.” 

Linnea watched with a half-smile flickering at the corner of her lips as Honeycomb finally meandered over to Clarke, promptly taking the honeycomb from her hand, chewing it rapidly before butting the blonde lightly in the chest. She didn’t say anything for a few moments, just watched as Clarke scratched the horse behind his ears and kissed his nose. 

“So what brings you out here?”

Linnea sighed and wrinkled her nose slightly, shifting uncomfortably when the blonde turned and looked at her. “Thought I would see the horses.” 

“Try again, Linnea.”

Linnea rolled her eyes, hunching her shoulders slightly. She and Clarke hadn’t known each other long, and she was a bit perturbed that the blonde seemed able to read her so well. She picked at a splinter on the weathered fence, taking her time to think how she should answer. 

“How is your friend?” She winced at the slight quiver in her voice. She had wanted to appear nonchalant, as if she didn’t really care about the answer. But when she dared to look up slightly, she could clearly see that she hadn’t fooled the blonde, if the intensity of her unwavering stare and slight furrow between her eyebrows was anything to go by. 

“Which friend? I have a few.”

Linnea ground her teeth. Figures the blonde wouldn’t make it easy on her. She scowled. “The smart one.” 

“They are all smart.” 

Linnea groaned under her breath, muttering about annoying blondes. “The pretty one.” 

Clarke smiled, tapping her finger on her chin. “Hmmmm...the pretty one...well, I think all three of them are pretty, Linnea. Could you be more specific?” 

“The one with the fire,” muttered Linnea. “She’s strong. Beautiful. She doesn’t give up, even when she has reason to.” She swallowed harshly, straightening and shrugging her shoulders under Clarke’s knowing gaze. 

Clarke waited, saying nothing, simply staring at Linnea’s profile, watching the woman struggle with herself. She smiled slightly. They would be a good match. A very good match. This warrior, this general and trader was what her friend needed. 

“Reivon.”

Clarke barely heard the whisper, but she bit her lip to refrain from shouting. Instead she nodded slowly, trying to keep her face still, as stoic as Lexa might. “Why don’t you ask her?”

Linnea shook her head. “No, I’m the one who captured here, bound her wrists.” 

“You were the one who kept Linus from killing her. You carried her and fed her.” Clarke reached out and squeezed Linnea’s shoulder briefly. “Trust me. Raven is one of the best. When the chips are down…” she smiled at Linnea’s questioning look, “I mean...when the enemy outnumbers you and is at your door, she is the one I want by my side.” 

“Does she have a…” Linnea wrinkled her nose for a moment, trying to think of the English word, but none of the words she could think of made sense, more expressed what she wanted to say… “ _ niron _ . Does she have a  _ niron _ ?”

Clarke shook her head slowly, recognizing the word for what it was. She’d heard Anya whisper it to Lexa, and she’d felt more than heard Lexa press the word to the skin of her neck before. Callum had told her it’s meaning, and it had caused her to blush and her heart to soar. 

“No. She did. But…” she sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the railing, remembering her own part in Raven’s heart being trashed as if it were nothing. “She did...once upon a time...in another life maybe. But no more. He wounded her greatly though,” she swallowed harshly, “I wounded her,” she confessed guilt roughening her voice. But when Linnea looked at her in confusion, she shook her head, “That is her story to tell you.” 

Linnea nodded, her shoulders slumping slightly. “So her  _ niron _ was a man?” 

Clarke shook her head, “Her  _ niron _ was a boy, an idealistic boy.” She sighed but then smiled watching Linnea out of the corner of her eye. “I’m pretty sure that it isn’t the package that concerns Raven, but what is inside.” 

She rolled her eyes at Linnea’s confused look, “You know...she doesn’t care if her niron is non-binary, male or female, or even someone in between..she doesn’t care about the package,” she waved her hand up and down Linnea’s torso. “You know.”

Linnea huffed in exasperation, “You skaikru are strange. Why don’t you just say what you mean.”

Clarke groaned and pushed against Linnea’s shoulder. “I did! Look...Raven doesn’t care what’s between your legs. Ok? She cares about this…” Clarke tapped her finger against Linnea’s chest. “And I think Raven might be better off with a warrior. Someone who would love her and never hold her back, but protect her, especially from herself.” She laughed, but it was tinged with sadness. “Raven can be her own worst enemy.”

Linnea nodded, “I-I could do that,” she muttered. 

“You? Oh I meant Callum.” 

Linnea’s head jerked around, disgust and horror written across her face. “Callum?! He’s still a boy! He was still a Seken last season…” sputtered Linnea in indignation. 

Clarke burst out laughing, startling some of the horses as her laugh echoed across the pen. Honeycomb simply swished his tail, keeping an eye on the blonde. “Oh gods, Linnea...your face!” Tears ran down Clarke’s face as she continued to laugh. She could feel her muscles twinge as the laughter raised up her stomach and erupted in her chest. She shook her head, wiping her eyes, as the tears finally tapered off. 

She tapped pushed against the scowling general’s shoulder, “Hmmppp...so-sorry.” She took a deep, shuddering breath, her giggles finally slowing down. “I think you would be good for Raven.” She stared at Linnea for a moment, happy to see the stiffness gone from the woman’s shoulders as she turned and smiled ruefully at Clarke. “But...I thought you didn’t do…” she gestured vaguely in the air.

Linnea could feel the heat creep up her neck, “Yes, well...maybe I just needed to find the right girl,” she shrugged a little before turning and leaning her back against the rough railings. She crossed her arms over her chest looking out over the small tent encampment on the outskirts of Ton DC. She could see where they were building small fire pits and dragging benches and logs and setting them around the pits, preparing for the night’s feast. 

“How do your Skaikru court?” 

Clarke reached out, grabbing Linnea’s shoulder to steady herself as she carefully turned back around, and swung her legs awkwardly around. She accidentally knocked her knee against Linnea’s head, but the general didn’t complain, simply reached up her hand to help Clarke turn and then slide down off the fence. 

“We don’t really court,” Clarke wrinkled her nose thinking hard for a moment. “Just talk to her…” she nudged Linnea in the side, “that can’t be too hard. You are pretty charming. But like...don’t try to get in her pants too soon, ok? If you want her to take you seriously, you need to talk to her about things that matter. No lies.” 

Linnea nodded. She could do that. She could talk to this girl from the stars. She took a deep breath, rubbing her hands together, choosing to ignore the slight tremor in them. “Do I bring a gift?” 

“I can’t tell you everything, Linnea. Some of it you have to figure out for yourself.” Clarke turned back, scooping up her now empty jar of honeycomb and paper and charcoal. “I’ll see you at the feast.” She walked away, looking back only once and seeing Linnea still leaning against the fence, eyes staring off in the distance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More plot. More Clexa. Aaaaand...Bellamy does something stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We respectfully decline to leave an Author's Note at the beginning of this chapter. Wait...

Kane glanced down at the crudely drawn map, then rubbed his aching eyes with a sigh. He’d gone over the plan in his head for what was probably the hundredth time, and he still didn’t like it one bit. There were too many unknowns, too many things that could go wrong. What if Wick was wrong and the diversion didn’t work? And what about Abby? 

Jackson had assured him that they could transport her for a short distance, and had shown Kane how to operate the portable ventilator, but now that it was almost time, Marcus was devoured by doubts. 

President Wallace had been reassuring over the radio - the tunnel entrance was located in the woods just behind Camp Jaha, and aided by a diversion and the cover of darkness, they would make it underground unmolested. Still they had agreed on a small escort, guards only, and all of them heavily armed in case some of the grounders spotted them. 

A knock at the door of the meeting room was promptly followed by Byrne, ushering a nervous looking Wick inside. 

“Sir? It’s time sir.” The Major had a gift for stating the obvious. 

“Will it work?” Kane asked, eyes trained on Wick. 

The man shrugged, looking like he wished to be anywhere but in front of him. 

“The grounders out there will get a nice fireworks display alright. Whether that’ll drive them to hide or storm the walls who can say?” 

“Abby?” Kane inquired, gaze shifting to Byrne’s pale eyes. 

“Jackson prepped her for transport and they are waiting near the rear wall with the rest of the Guards you are taking, sir,” she swallowed then added, “the area’s been cordoned off.” 

“Good.” Marcus nodded and stood, shouldering his backpack and slinging a rifle across his chest. “Byrne…” 

“No shooting unless attacked, sir.” The Major recited promptly, a faint, ashamed blush tinging her cheeks, “the incident won’t repeat itself.” 

“Good,” he repeated, “command of our defences goes to you until I return.” 

“About Reyes and the Blakes, sir…” 

He cut her off, anger constricting his chest. “They left the protection of these walls, and I told you before I have no spare men to send after them. If they return, confine them to the holding cells until further notice.” The last thing they needed was more people getting the idea the could run amok without consequences, and accidentally provoking the grounders. The warriors in the trees had done nothing but watch so far, but who knew what could tip the scales at this point. 

He hoped his small diversion wouldn’t be it, but what choice did he have at this point?

Outside, camp was quiet, the way cleared as Byrne had promised. Wick broke off to set their plan in motion while Marcus hurried to the meeting point, his men standing up straighter as he approached. He tried not to look at Abby too closely, pretended not to notice how waxy she looked under the faint moonlight, how labored her breathing. 

“We move out.” 

His words hung in the night’s air for a moment and then were swallowed by a loud whistling noise and a hollow boom coming from the front gates. The sky in that direction brightened, sprayed with gold and red and showers of silver like coins tumbling from the heavens. 

It would have been beautiful to look at and some of the men actually gasped, eyes wide, before they orderly formed a cordon around Abby’s stretcher, and trotting through a hole they had opened in the fence, towards the woods beyond. 

As they left Camp Jaha behind, Kane wondered if the fireworks marked hope, or the beginning of their demise.

***********************

“May  I help you?” 

Lexa gasped softly, managing to put down the vial of black pigment before she ended up breaking it and wearing it down her front. She had been choosing what to wear, and decided to forego war paint. It was to be a feast after all. 

Heda had thought she had been alone in her tent, with Anya gone to oversee guard rotation around the village, so that everyone could take part in the feast for a while, and Clarke having gone to see her friends for a while. But the blonde was back early, evidently wanting to get ready for the feast - something Lexa had mulled over helping her with - and caught the Commander still in the midst of getting ready. 

Normally Lexa’s handmaidens would help her don her armor and apply war paint across the Commander’s face, but the brunette had sent the giggling girls away. While it was true that they were feasting a dead warrior, her attendants were still young enough that their minds were more focused on which boys and girls would be around the fire and what food and sweets would be served at the long tables. They had been way too noisy for Lexa’s suddenly somber mood. 

She turned to face Clarke fully, holding the girl’s deep blue eyes without speaking. She could see doubt ignite inside their depths, Clarke’s shoulders hunching slightly at her lack of response, the blonde obviously thinking she had intruded on a private moment. 

Lexa’s lips parted, and she made to speak in reassurance, moved in truth by Clarke’s offer, but then the girl’s back straightened and she added, head inclined in a show of deference.

“It would honor me, Heda.” 

A lump formed in Lexa’s throat as she was thrown back to years before when Costia had been the one readying her before battles, or meetings. She felt the sting of tears she wouldn’t allow herself to cry prick at her eyelids, and blinked them back, so rapidly that the room lost its focus for a moment. 

“I’ll show you what to do,” she nodded finally. regaining her composure with some effort, hoping that the smile on her lips wasn’t too tremulous, “once you are done, I will help you get ready.” She saw Clarke open her mouth to protest and added, “it’s only fair.” 

Clarke frowned at Lexa, utterly disarmed. Offering to help Heda get ready had seemed natural - she and Anya had done nothing but help her dress in the past few days or so it felt - but she hadn’t expected Lexa to state she would return the favor so matter-of-factly. For a moment she had wanted to protest that she was well enough to dress on her own, but couldn’t counter Lexa’s argument about it being fair that they help each other. 

The Commander beckoned her closer, and she approached suddenly flustered. She had been naked in front of Lexa, she had kissed Lexa, and yet this felt more deliberate and in a way more intimate that what they had shared the night before. 

She couldn’t tear her eyes away as Lexa shrugged her shirt off, revealing the exquisite curve of her back, and she steeled herself as her mouth went dry, not wanting to backpedal on her offer, somehow sure that doing so would shame them both.

“The clothing I picked is over there,” Lexa motioned with a jerk of her head, and Clarke hurried to a nearby chest, over which a pile of clothes was neatly folded. She was grateful that the Commander was still in her bindings and shorts, for she thought she would have burst into bright flames otherwise. 

As she helped Lexa don a delicately spun shirt dyed a grey so dark it was almost black, Clarke couldn’t help but admire the tattoo adorning Heda’s back. Her fingers strayed, and she traced the lines of ink between the brunette’s shoulders, making her shiver. Lexa’s skin was soft, smooth , her back miraculously unscarred, and Clarke wondered at the absence of the kill marks she had spotted on Anya’s back when she had watched the General change. She’d felt them on Linnea also, deep grooves cut along her ribcage, and the woman had let her explore the scars without protest even though she hadn’t wanted to talk much about them. 

Clarke placed a hand on Lexa’s bare shoulder without thought, exhaling sharply when the brunette’s fingers rose to entwine with hers.

“Kill marks are forbidden to Natblidas, on the chance they will rise to Heda’s position,” Lexa’s voice was flat, emotionless, yet Clarke thought she could read a great pain beneath it, “no back is broad enough to bear as many kill marks as a Commander earns in their lifetime.” Clarke felt Lexa begin to pull away and she tightened her hold, stroking the back of the brunette’s hand with her knuckles until she felt her relax with a weary sigh. 

“What about my kills?” She blurted out before she could stop herself, and the memory of a carpet of charred bones surged forward. 

She felt Lexa twist around, and when their eyes met, Clarke shivered. There was no anger in Heda’s darkening gaze, only cold consideration and the blonde knew she would need to choose her next words very carefully. 

“I am not proud of what I have done to your people, Lexa,” Clarke knew that technically she had promised to let the matter go after the flogging, but she needed the brunette to see that she was honorable, that her people could be honorable, especially now that some of them had acted without, “ If the matter hadn’t been settled in the Atonement I would ask to bear their death on my back - to remember them. As it is, I would still like to at least know their names. ”

Lexa blinked, taken aback by Clarke’s words, and the different meaning the girl imbued the markings with. Warriors showed their scars off to boast, to prove that they were good at their trade and measure against others without actually crossing blades. But this was different, and the quiet conviction she saw on Clarke’s face told her that the girl had given this some serious thought. 

“Three hundred marks would require time, and you would be in a lot of pain.  But as you said, this is idle talk - you paid enough, and I won’t hear another word about it. ” 

“Three hundred and two,” the blonde corrected, almost too low to be heard. 

“Malcolm and my mother died because of me...because I thought my people would be reasonable.” Clarke’s jaw clenched, and Lexa knew she was struggling to hold back tears.  She resolved to take the matter up with Anya - on one hand she disagreed with Clarke, but she saw the way those deaths were ripping the blonde apart - but for now her concern was giving an obviously upset Clarke some comfort.

Gently wrapping a hand around Clarke’s wrist, Lexa tried to pull her into her arms, but the blonde resisted, shaking her head with a watery smile.

“No. If you hold me now, I’ll cry all over your clean shirt, and I don’t think I could ever stop. It’ll ruin the feast, don’t you think?” 

Clarke watched Lexa look for a reply, and when the brunette failed, she went back to dressing her. Skin tight pants of black leather followed the shirt, and she had to snatch her hands away from Heda somewhat hurriedly, as it seemed that her toned thighs begged Clarke for her touch.  But that was a thought for another day Clarke promised herself, biting her lip, and refusing to dwell too much on what it would be like to touch Lexa like that, to love Lexa in such a way. 

A padded vest went over Lexa’s shirt, then the Commander directed her towards a nearby wooden stand where her armor was hung on display. It took Clarke several tries and a lot of prompting, but in the end she managed to tighten every strap to Lexa’s satisfaction. 

“My sash now,” Lexa murmured softly, pointing to the length of crimson cloth Clarke had left on the armor stand, “here, pin it to my shoulder guard, like so…” She guided the blonde’s fingers with her own, securing the fabric to her armor. Clarke marveled at the softness of the cloth, she had thought it wool, but it was made of a different, smoother material that seemed to shimmer under the light and ran through her fingers like water. 

“Scarlet for the blood of your enemies?” She asked, a drop of sarcasm splashed atop her words. The symbolism seemed so...loud...so obvious and she wondered if it was tradition, rather than Lexa’s choice. She had learned in the short time they had spent together that Lexa was always subtle and seldom loud. 

“And the blood a Commander is willing to shed for the people,” Lexa’s hand reached for hers again, and Clarke lowered her gaze, shamed by her own assumption. “Although Heda’s blood isn’t red.” The brunette finished in a whisper.

“Apologies, Heda,” Clarke mumbled, cheeks on fire. She bit her lower lip and tried to pull away from Lexa’s grasp, mentally calling herself an idiot. Here she was, trying to impress the Commander, prove that there was good in her people, and she had blurted out something based on the wrong assumption the other Skaikru shared about the grounders being savages. But she knew otherwise, she knew better, and she wanted to learn and show her people that the ground was big enough to for all of them.

“Teach me.”

“There’s not need to apolo...what?” Lexa inclined her head with a puzzled frown.

“Teach me your ways,” Clarke’s voice picked up strength and she straightened, finally managing to meet the brunette’s gaze, “I want to learn...I…” She didn’t know exactly where she belonged, and it was a realization that sunk heavy like a stone down the pit of her stomach. She owed her friends to try and save them and, having seen what horrors the captured grounders had been subjected to by the Mountain Men, she wanted to free them and end the Maunons’ reign of terror. Yet she found she had little trust for the people she had prayed would come safely to the ground to help her and the other Delinquents. 

After they took the Mountain down, and they would because she couldn’t entertain the opposite notion for a second, with her mother gone what else tied her to Skaikru? She had friends among them, but was that enough to live with people who had sent their young ones to almost certain death to find a future. What society risked their younger generations so that their elders could live on and prosper? 

And going back would mean leaving Lexa and Anya behind. And despite all the doubts encroaching on her mind, Clarke just knew that was not an option.

Lexa watched quietly as an army of emotions went to war upon Clarke’s face, refusing to let the girl’s hand go, even when she tried to pull away abashed at her own words. 

“I will teach you our ways,” she reassured gently, “and Anya will also. Some you’ve learned already without prompting.”  

She used the hold she had on Clarke’s hand to draw the blonde’s attention towards the bed. 

“I...I’ve picked out something for you to wear at the feast,” Lexa felt all of her self-assurance trickle away and spoke hurriedly, before her voice could betray her, “but if you don’t like the clothes you can change. You can wear whatever you want..I mean.. I would never…” 

Clarke gave her a timid smile without speaking, and Lexa relaxed a fraction when the girl turned, leading her towards the bed by her hand. 

She had picked out buckskin pants and soft socks that reached below the knee to go beneath since the nights had been getting colder, a shirt of dark, blue cotton and Anya had insisted on a long leather coat of the same color, a sturdier one than what Clarke had been wearing on the trip back to the Skaikru one. 

It had actually taken Lexa some dissuading, as her lover had been dead set on gifting Clarke a coat with metal inserts on shoulders and chest, much like those they wore. Anya had backed down only when Lexa had reminded her that the blonde was still healing, and that she would require some training before she could wear armor without hurting herself.  

“These are...thank you Lexa.” Clarke let go of the brunette’s hand, picking up the shirt and admiring the lighter stitching along the hem and cuffs. It almost looked like a hint of embroidery, and everything form the shirt to the socks felt so soft she could not wait to try it on. 

“Should I...can I help you dress?” 

A snarky reply came to Clarke’s lips but, seeing the deep blush staining Lexa’s cheeks, she simply nodded, butterflies whipping up in her stomach.

“Heda honors me.” 

Lexa smiled and shook her head, her eyes bright as she leaned close enough that her nose scraped against Clarke’s cheek. “No, you honor Heda by allowing me to do this for you.” 

Clarke could only nod dumbly and swallow harshly, her mouth suddenly dry and scratchy.

Lexa’s hands were surprisingly deft, and she moved with the grace of flowing water, as if her armor weighed nothing. Clarke shivered as the brunette helped her remove her clothes. despite being left in her bindings and shorts only for a few moments. It was day still, the sun doing its best to shine in a sky so pale it looked white, but the air carried an unpleasant bite that reminded the blonde the need for haste. 

Lexa’s hands stilled on her shoulders, thumbs circling the skin softly, lingering on the the divot of Clarke’s collarbone and while the touch was nothing if not comforting, t he blonde felt vulnerable, and far more exposed than she had been when she’d so brazenly flirted with the Commander while in the bath the night before, more intimate than when they had tangled with Anya in bed, and she had taken the General in her mouth, kissed Lexa with some sort of wanton desperation.

It was as if Lexa had peeled away more than layers of clothes, baring her very soul perhaps, and Clarke knew that Lexa wasn’t the only one that had become undone under an onslaught of emotion that only grew stronger as the days passed. 

Lexa bit her lower lip, utterly lost in the silkyness of Clarke’s skin beneath her fingertips then, as she saw the girl shiver she snatched her hands away, cheeks splashed with pink. 

“Sorry...I…” The brunette cleared her throat, feeling flustered. 

Only Costia had managed to make her feel that way. 

Before Clarke could say anything, and possibly tease her, Lexa snatched the shirt she had picked for the skayon from the bed, holding it out to her. She handed each article of clothing to the blonde, helping her with the strings and buttons that she couldn’t reach herself. 

Once Clarke was dressed, Lexa stepped back, admiring the way the clothes she had chosen seemed to fit the blonde’s frame. “Blue suits you,” she murmured, stomach dropping almost sickeningly, warmth coloring each word at the same time.

Clarke felt a blush rise to her cheeks at the compliment, the feeling of Lexa’s hands lingering on the skin now hidden under a soft shirt, as if Heda had etched herself on the blonde’s skin. She felt the physical space between them like a gulf she yearned to cross, closing the distance, but her feet seemed rooted to the carpeted floor of the tent. Clarke thought that perhaps this was their most intimate moment so far, realizing they had gravitated around one another with a deep sense of familiarity usually borne from years of domesticity. She looked down at her feet, suddenly at a loss of what to do, then her gaze was invariably drawn to Lexa’s. 

“If you sit, I’ll braid your hair for you,” Clarke thought there was a slight quiver trapped between the brunette’s words, a faint blush on Lexa’s cheeks that mirrored her own, but in the next breath Heda was composed again, unruffled at least on the surface. 

Clarke nodded gratefully, still unable to raise her arms for long because of her wounds. Still, she couldn’t really complain, she thought as she followed Lexa in the main part of the tent, obediently sitting on a low stool as directed. Her healing was proving to be swift, much faster than what she’d read in the medical treatises her mother had made her study. Mouth suddenly sour, she squeezed her hands against her midriff, a familiar sense of loss swelling between her ribs, festering around then and seeping into her very bones like a virulent infection. Clarke hoped the ritual she would undertake during the feast would at least ease her mind a little, if not put her grief to rest.

She felt Lexa move behind her, and soon after a comb was sweeping through the tangles in her hair, gently untangling the knots. Her eyes fluttered close and she leaned into the touch with a small sigh, shoulders relaxing at the gentle attention.

“I told Raven about the Mountain,” she murmured after a while, “she’s the easiest of them to talk to. The brightest too.” The comb stopped for half a heartbeat, and Lexa’s fingers flexed against her scalp, scratching lightly. 

“And?” The Commander breathed quietly.

“I am not sure she really believes me,” Clarke grimaced around the reply. She had seen open disbelief in Raven’s eyes, even though her friend had listened to her story until the end before peppering her with questions. Raven didn’t doubt the grounders inside cages, but she questioned the connection between the blood and healing. And the Ripas. She’d asked Clarke how she thought they were made if the Mountain was responsible and the blonde hadn’t known how to answer. 

“But you and the other goufas saw the ripas at your camp, the night Tristan led the attack.” Lexa’s fingers didn’t stop moving as she talked, and Clarke felt locks of her hair being tugged slightly as they were arranged in narrow braids. 

“We did. But I think what I saw inside the Mountain is so heinous that it’s easier for Raven and the others to believe I wasn’t really in my right mind...or so scared I thought I saw things that aren’t real. Sometimes telling yourself a reassuring lie is easier than facing true evil.” 

They fell quiet after that and Lexa felt Clarke slip back into the same horrified sadness she caught glimpses of in Anya’s eyes, some sort of quiet disbelief, the fragments of a shattered hope that what they had seen had indeed just been a fever induced nightmare.

“I believe you, Klark,” she stated evenly, stepping back from the stool, several thin braids adorning Clarke’s head, “and we will put an end to that evil.” 

The blonde stood, facing her with a grateful expression, lips parted to give voice to a reply, but before she could, the tent’s flap were pushed back and Anya ducked her head inside. She already wore the clothing she had chosen for the feast, having prepared before going to organize the guards with Indra. Stepping inside, she watched solemnly as Lexa helped Clarke into the new leather coat, before her face broke into a smile. 

“Everyone is waiting, Heda.” The General held the tent flap open for Lexa and she and Clarke fell into step behind the Commander. 

“You’re beautiful,” Anya managed to murmur in Clarke’s ear, leaning slightly forward. Then the drums started to beat, putting an end to conversation for the time being.  

The drumbeats rose to a crescendo and then, when Lexa raised a hand they stopped, the silence so sudden that Clarke’s ear rang with it. 

“Tonight, we feast!” Heda began, voice easily carrying among the assembled crowd, “we remember Malcolm, our fallen brother by celebrating life!” People roared in approval at that, some raising their fists into the air as they shouted the man’s name to the heavens, “we remember the warrior he was, the father and husband he was,” Lexa continued after the clamor had died down, “with song, and drink, and food as he would have wanted!”  Clarke had asked if they feasted whenever a warrior died in battle, which seemed improbable considering the amount of fighting the clans still did among each other despite being part of Heda’s Coalition, and Lexa had laughed gently, shaking her head. She had explained that a feast had seemed like the best way to dampen flaring tempers, and it was a good way for the different warbands to interact and build camaraderie. Clarke had seen the dark looks the Azgeda envoys got from members of the other clans, so what the Commander was trying to do made a lot of sense.

“Just don’t try to drink as much as he could!” Someone shouted back from the crowd, and the grounders roared with laughter, the Commander motioning them to disperse among the fires roaring between the rows of tents and the houses of TonDC. 

The drums picked up again, a fiddle or two joining in, and Clarke was a bit lost as to what to do with herself. She wasn’t in the mood for a feast, not really, especially if she thought about the ritual she would go through later that night, and she would have liked to just stick with Anya and Lexa, but then again didn’t want to follow them around like a lost puppy.

She caught sight of Raven, Octavia and Bellamy huddled around one of the fires, but pretended not to notice when Octavia raised a hand to call her over. Raven had undoubtedly told the others about the Mountain and Clarke didn’t want to face more disbelief. 

At least not on such a night. 

Some of the Ambassadors hovered nearby, Edric giving her a genuine smile, before they moved to engage Heda in conversation, and Clarke took the opportunity to quietly slip in the deep shadows between two tents. 

She’d get some food from the long tables that had been prepared and find a quiet spot where she could eat and sit alone with her thoughts for a little while. 

As she passed several fires, people nodded politely, a few of them greeting her by name and inviting her to sit with them. Clarke politely declined each time, slowly making her way through the milling crowds, stomach rumbling loudly when her nose caught a whiff of the scent of roasting meat. 

A hand closed around her forearm gently, tugging her to a stop. 

“Klark,” she turned, finding that Thany had silently come up to her, and for the first time that night she was genuinely happy to see someone other than Lexa or Anya.

“Come eat with us?” The taller woman jerked her head towards a nearby fire and, craning her neck over Thany’s shoulder, Clarke spotted Je’Saris  and Callum, sitting around a roaring bonfire. The youth sat with his leg awkwardly extended, since he couldn’t bend it because of the splint and Clarke felt guilt at the sight, much as she had when she had sat with him while he sharpened his blades. 

“Come,” Thany steered her gently and the blonde laughed when Callum began to wave to her enthusiastically, “we’ve sent Angus and Linus to prove their worth as warriors,” the woman winked and smirked, “they better bring back food for everybody.” 

Soon enough she was pushed to sit down on the log next to Callum, Thany dropping down next to her with a sigh. Clarke was content to watch Je’Saris and Callum play a game of dice while they waited for the food, and listened to their banter.  Je’Saris was beating Callum despite his boasting of being the best dice player in the clan, and she could help but chuckle when Callum complained that Je’Saris was cheating, and Thany whacked him on the back of the head, scolding him for being a sore loser. She could tell that Callum had meant his accusation in jest, and Thany hadn’t hit him hard enough to cause any actual damage. They reminded her of one of the old earth movies in their databank on the Ark, the movie of the friends who went looking for a treasure to save their town, fighting a family of bank robbers, and learning that friends could be family also. She imagined this was what it might have been like to have brothers and sisters.

When someone finally emerged from the shadows however, it wasn’t the men belonging to the small Trikru warband, but Quint, a scowl fixed on his face as he swayed into the light of the fire, already visibly drunk. 

Clarke felt Thany tense at her side, hand subtly falling to the knife at her waist. 

“What do you want?” Je’Saris snapped, moving as if to stand between the advancing warrior and Clarke. He ignored them all, bloodshot eyes focused on the blonde. 

“I heard you lost your mother,” his voice was a gravelly snarl, the words a bit slurred by alcohol, “word goes around,” he smirked thinly as Clarke’s eyes widened. “Someone caused you the pain you caused me,” he hefted a small flask and took a long swig from it, before thrusting it towards her, “we’re even now, girl. Drink up! To my brother’s memory as I drink to your mother’s!” 

Clarke’s mouth dropped slightly open at Quint’s words, and she took the flask with trembling fingers, her hand brushing his own for a moment. At least she knew whatever was inside the container wasn’t poison, since he had freely drunk from it.  She brought the flask to her mouth slowly, and the smell wafting up from the bottle’s neck made her nose itch and her eyes water. The blonde took a careful sip, and almost gagged on it, her tongue curling at the taste, the liquor seemingly stripping layers from her tongue before burning down her gullet. 

“To your brother,” she croaked, handing back the flask and trying to stifle a cough. 

“Ah!” He nodded, seemingly satisfied, “the way you hold your liquor, girl, I could almost believe you Trikru born.” 

And with that he turned and disappeared into the night, shouldering between Angus and Linus as they emerged from it. 

“What was that about?” Angus asked, offering a plate of meat to Clarke, “if he came to cause trouble…”

“I am not sure,” she replied slowly, feeling a bit dizzy from the alcohol, and biting into a slice of roast, hoping to chase the horrible aftertaste away. 

“I think it was his way to settle things between you two, once and for all,” Je’Saris offered, “at least you won’t need to worry about him slipping a blade in your back when you’re not looking.” 

The other warriors growled at that, Linus spitting into the flames and describing in gruesome detail what he’d do to anyone who dared look at Clarke the wrong way. She contented herself with eating, stomach stilling somewhat as she filled it with some food. 

“About your mother…” Callum began after a while. Clarke’s head whipped up and he faltered, blushing under her stare and clearing his throat, “we… we would attend the ritual with you, if you’ll have us,” he shrugged and finished hurriedly, “it’s easier to say goodbye if you aren’t alone. We’ve all been there at some point.” 

Clarke had wanted to ask how they all seemed to know what she intended, since it had been discussed only with Lexa and Anya, but his words hit her hard, like a handful of bricks. She’d thought she knew how to deal with death, but she had slowly come to realize how everything was sanitized and bloodless on the Ark. She’d watched her father be floated, armored glass between them as he was flung into the cold embrace of space, but here on the ground everything was intimate and gruesome, and much more violent. Death walked among warriors and villagers alike and they were much more familiar with it than she. Perhaps they would know how to keep it from tearing her apart. 

“I...mochof.” She stumbled on the unfamiliar word, but they simply nodded, satisfied with her assent. Awkward silence followed for a few heartbeats, then Angus began to tell funny stories about his days as goufa and they resumed eating, Callum breaking out a bottle of moonshine that was thankfully not as awful as what Quint had been drinking. 

Clarke glanced at the sky, knowing it was still some time before the moon rose. She hoped that by then, she would be ready.

***********************

“Where’d Clarke go?” Anya asked, eyes scanning the milling crowd. They had just managed to extricate themselves from a rather boring discussion about pasture rights with the Plains Clan and Horse Clan Ambassadors. The two tribes had been at odds over the matter for as far as the General could remember, the point of contention being a strip of good land that ran between their respective territories. Heda had decreed that they would alternate in its use each season, but they never failed to bring the matter up whenever they saw an opening, hoping they could sway her one way or the other. 

“I think I saw her with Thany,” Lexa replied as they made their way towards the long tables, Heda’s guards shadowing their steps. It was slow going, as Lexa had to stop every few paces to greet a General, or bless a child. 

Anya grabbed food for the both of them, then they made their way to the fire Heda’s handmaidens had lit in front of the Commander’s tent. Lexa invited the guards to sit with her, and for once her men seemed a bit more at ease in her presence. Still, none of them drank of the strong beer that was being passed around, as they didn’t forget their duty even while feasting. 

“See?” Lexa nudged Anya lightly to gain her attention, gaze moving to a spot on their left, “there she is.” 

Anya turned her head, following Heda’s gaze and spotted Clarke’s unmissable wheat gold hair as it glinted in the light of a fire. She was relieved to see she sat between Thany and young Callum, the other warriors that had accompanied her to the Skaikru camp also gathered around the fire, eating and telling stories. 

“She’s starting to fit in,” Anya observed, watching the way the warriors around the fire included Clarke in conversation, joking with her and listening intently to her replies. She was to far to hear what was being said, but she could tell that Clarke was having a good time, appearing more unburdened than she had in the previous days. 

“She asked me for kill marks,” Lexa stated so quietly that Anya almost dind’t hear, “for Malcolm. And her mother.” 

Lexa said the words quietly, carefully, seemingly feigning disinterest as she picked up a twig from the ground at her feet and lazily poked at the fire. Clarke’s request had bothered her since the girl had mentioned it - she thought that Clarke had sacrificed enough, more than was necessary for her people - and Heda disliked the way it still ate at the blonde. As she had expected Anya jerked as if slapped, then went rigid and the brunette thought she could hear her teeth grinding together.

“Hasn’t enough of her blood been spilled already?” her lover hissed through gritted teeth, “payment and forgiveness  were the point of her Atonement.” Lexa heard heat smoldering slowly in Anya’s voice, the General evidently feeling the same spark of anger she had experienced when Clarke had mentioned her desire. 

“You mistake her,” she murmured, wishing she could take Anya’s hand in both of her own and aware that there were far too many eyes watching, “she doesn’t ask out of an empty boast. Rather, from a desire to remember the fallen, bear them on their skin. I think Clarke...and by extension her people are not used to dealing with death the same way we are, nor war for that matter. We’ve talked of it before, and I think despite the cleansing of the ritual Klark still feels guilt. And just when she was starting to heal, you were attacked, and she feels responsible for Malcolm and her mother.”

“That blood falls on her people! She isn’t-” 

Lexa just locked stares with Anya, and the General stopped short, brow furrowing in thought. 

“She doesn’t feel that way.” The Commander looked away and towards Clarke, the blonde watching as Callum showed her a knife trick. She watched the man hand her the knife, and felt a small smile tug at the corner of her lips when she saw Clarke laugh as she managed to replicate the trick. At the same time a great sadness wrapped like a shroud around her heart, and she wondered how someone could look so carefree and carry so much hurt inside as Clarke did.

“You are considering it?” Anya stated slowly.

Lexa shrugged minutely before saying, “I want your opinion on the matter. I am afraid it will keep eating away at her if we do nothing.” 

Anya closed her eyes and took a deep breath, whether to calm herself or steel her mind before making a decision Lexa wasn’t sure. 

“No.” The General’s brown eyes were hard like old bark, “she asks out of shame for actions that aren’t hers! She already showed the clans that these skai people have some merit,” her mouth twisted - what respect Clarke had gained her people had been shattered by gunshots in the night - “but… she didn’t wield the guns that shot us. And the decision to approach the Skaikru walls, despite nightfall, was mine.” 

She felt Lexa shift on the log and knew that, had they been alone, Lexa would have stood and paced in all of her frustration. 

“I see the guilt eat away at her,” Heda said softly, careful to keep her voice low, “at times her eyes grow distant, clouded. You remember I was the same after…” she had to swallow the lump in her throat, that even after years made it hard to breathe, “after Costia. I think she second guesses herself. What could have she done different? What if she had approached the wall alone?” 

What if Lexa hadn’t underestimated Nia’s mad ambition?

“You were the same when-” 

“Don’t.” Anya’s voice was steel and the gaze she shot to Lexa cold as ice. “We’ll keep her busy. We’ll continue to train her as soon as Nyko says she can exert herself, since she needs to learn to fight. We make her so exhausted by the time night comes that her thoughts have no room left for guilt.  She’s already becoming more adept at moving in the forest. She is learning to listen, to identify the movements of the wind and of people and animals. ” 

Lexa nodded, remembering the first months after Costia’s death, the interminable sparring sessions with Anya, the hunts, their late night discussions about strategy. It had kept her mind off her grief somewhat - perhaps it could work again. 

“And if it won’t work, then what?” She voiced her doubt because she had to - and because Clarke was nothing if not stubborn. 

“We’ll cross that bridge if we have to.” Anya cut their conversation abruptly, eyes pointing skyward, to the moon just peeking over the treetops, 

“It’s almost time.” she said, “you should go.”

“ _ We _ should go.” Lexa corrected, fighting to keep surprise off her face as Anya began to shake her head. 

“I am not coming...I...I don’t know how to deal with grief. I don’t know how it is to lose a mother. Growing up without a mother to lose may have had something to do with that.” Anya’s smile wasn’t cruel, but bitter as she stated a hurtful truth about her life. 

“But you have lost people you cared for,” Lexa murmured, wishing she could pull the taller woman into her arms - or perhaps smack some sense into her, “Clarke needs us both. She doesn’t expect you to say anything Anya...just...be there for her, beja.” 

She stood abruptly, waving her guards to stay and looked to Anya expectantly.

The General knew that stare - it was the unyielding one Lexa used to bend nations and people to her will - but deep among the green of her eyes was a pleading light. 

Anya climbed to her feet, and she felt like it was the hardest thing she’d done since she had set fire to Tris’ pyre and walked the smoldering ruins of Annan. Lexa started towards Clarke, not looking back to see if she would follow. She’d said her piece and she wouldn’t order Anya - not on this. 

When she finally started to move, she wasn’t quite sure where her feet were taking her.

***********************

The spot they had chosen for the ritual was beyond the edge of the grounders’ camp, several hundred feet past the last rows of tents and close to the treeline. 

Clarke couldn’t see the sentinels among the trees, but she felt their eyes on her and their presence was oddly reassuring - almost discreet. 

She and Lexa stood side by side, facing the bonfire, flames hissing outward to lick trails of heat along their cheeks. The warriors that had asked to attend with Clarke waited a respectful distance behind them and, as Clarke glanced back, she saw Anya hesitantly step up behind them, but the General didn’t stride forward to join her and Lexa, using the shadows as a shield around herself, or perhaps a hiding place.

Lexa’s discreet touch on her forearm had her turn her attention back to the fire, the tightness in her chest at the thought Anya didn’t want to be there finally easing. 

“Do you have something of her to give up to the flames?” Heda’s voice was a gentle whisper that seemed to float in the quiet air of the night. Snatches of song and laughter carried from the camp, and Clarke’s bones felt hollowed out and replaced by bitter sweet grief. 

“I do.” Clarke reached inside her coat, hand closing around a tattered piece of ribbon Abby had pressed into her hand when they’d said their goodbyes on the Ark. Before the battle at the Dropship some impulse had driven her to hide it behind some cabling, in case something happened to her, and she was glad she had or it would have been taken from her inside the Mountain.  She had retrieved it when she and Anya had been on their way to Camp Jaha, having stopped close enough to the Dropship to take the few extra minutes to find it. She had hurried, not wanting to disturb the ghosts of 300 slain warriors.

The blonde also withdrew a folded piece of parchment, where she had drawn a likeness of her mom. The lines were slightly wobbly, the graphite a bit blurred by her tears which had fallen freely upon the paper as she worked. 

“I drew her face since...I don’t have…” 

“The Spirits are understanding Klark. It will suffice.” Lexa gently pushed her a step forward, gesturing to the open flames, the other warriors drawing closer until they were a solid wall at Clarke’s back, their quiet strength seeping inside her. 

Lexa had explained what was required, and Clarke had seen it done at Malcolm’s pyre. Trembling hands reached out and she fed the drawing and the ribbon to the fire as her vision blurred with unshed tears, the world dissolving for a moment into a haze of orange and gold. 

The blonde blinked rapidly, forcing herself to watch the fire until her eyes began to itch from the smoke. The paper caught first, rapidly curling and blackening at the edges before the flames licked up, consuming it with a low crackle. The ribbon lasted longer, the fabric glowing cherry red, a brighter flame among the raging inferno, before the warp and woof unravelled in the heat and it too was devoured. 

“Kom chilnes yu na ban sishou-de au. Kom hodnes yu na hon neson op. Gouthru klir hashta yu soujon. Kom taim oso fali kom daun gon graun-de.  Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim” Callum and Je’Saris had helped her with the words, translating the Traveler’s Blessing for her and schooling her until she had the pronunciation down right. They both had been surprised that she would want to recite the prayer in Trigedasleng and not English, but Clarke had given them a sad smile, explaining that she wanted to say her farewell in the language of the ground that her mother had fought so hard to reach. 

She thought she heard Lexa inhale sharply at her side, but when she cast her a glance, the Commander’s face was a blank mask, the green of her eyes lined in orange by the fire. 

Callum hobbled up to her other side, Je’Saris supporting much of his weight and handed Clarke a small flask which she unstoppered and  raised high in the air before taking a long gulp of the alcohol. It burned down her chest and into her belly, and she almost choked on it, her belly curdling in rebellion. The tears she barely managed to keep at bay spilled down her cheeks as she raised the flask again and  emptied it over the fire.  The flames roared even higher, flickering against the night sky , edged in a deep blue  from the alcohol.  The pungent smell of moonshine filled the air around them. 

There were words Clarke had prepared, things she had wanted to say to remember Abby by, to explain to the others around her what kind of woman her mother was, but when it was time to say them, she found they were stuck inside her throat like fishbones, and she couldn’t bring herself to say them. 

Everything felt heavy and all she wanted to do was lay down and sleep, and wake up to find that her mother’s death had been a dream.

“Could I be alone for a while?” Her own voice came from a great distance and Clarke didn’t look around her as she made that request. She focused her gaze on the darkness past the fire and numbed herself to pain. Someone sounded sad and broken, but it wasn’t her. Someone was being destroyed by grief, mutedly screaming her anguish. 

Not her though.

She barely heard the others’ quiet assent, dimly registered them leaving. And then she was alone with the emptiness inside her and her mother’s ghost, lingering inside the dying fire.  But she drew no comfort from it. 

She was not alone for long.

***************** 

The footsteps were loud in the still night, twigs and leaves crackling underneath the heavy steps. She cocked her head, smiling slightly because she had already learned to recognize the uneven, scraping tread of a Skaikru. Octavia would have already started to figure out that she needed to step more carefully, and Raven’s step was mitigated by an uneven lurching of her bad leg. No, that meant it was Bellamy. She sighed. 

She had been avoiding him, and it made her uncomfortable. He was her friend, and together they had managed to keep the other delinquents alive. But she had seen the way his lean face had hardened, his eyes had glinted darkly, brows drawn harshly over his eyes. She could only imagine what was eating away at him now, and her stomach rolled uneasily. 

“I want to be alone.” She kept her back to him, heard him hesitate and draw a deep breath, before he let it out in a loud huff. She heard him shift his weight onto his right leg before he righted himself, balancing his weight on both his legs. She heard the scrape of his boots slide across the broken grass, and knew he’d widened his stance. The telltale rustle of nylon and cotton could only mean he’d now crossed his arms over his broad chest. She registered all of this in the span of a few seconds, slightly amazed at how much she’d learned from Anya and Lexa’s training in such a short time. Bellamy had come to fight, and she reacted in turn. 

She turned around slowly, widening her stance slightly, balancing on the balls of her feet. She let her hands fall to her hips. “Did you not hear me, Bellamy? I wish to be alone, to mourn my mother in peace.” 

“Alone?” He scoffed. “It doesn’t look like you’ve exactly been alone.” He tightened his arms across his chest to hide the slight tremor of his hands. He could feel his anger building, turning his stomach into a swell of acid. He tried to remind himself that Clarke was his friend, that she cared about their people, that she understood her duty. But all he could hear was her laughter in his ears, all he could see was her hand resting against the hip of the tall, hawkish Trikru general. 

_ Clarke shook her head in amusement as Lexa punched Anya lightly in the shoulder, muttering about her being a traitor as Anya continued to regale Clarke with stories of Lexa’s time as her Seken. She stood between them as they stood talking with other generals around the large bonfire, having left the table for a few minutes to greet those who’d gathered for the celebration.  _

_ She couldn’t help but laugh when Anya described in detail how Lexa had been determined to gather the honey on her own from an old burned out tree she and Anya had found. She’d refused to listen to Anya’s warnings about smoking the bees out first, and instead had ended up being stung multiple times as a swarm of bees chased her to the river. Once the bees had finally left, Anya had stripped Lexa naked and caked her in mud to help sooth the stings. It was a lesson well learned, and Clarke had felt the pain in her chest ease for a few moments, as she recognized the stories for what they were: a distraction.  _

_ She’d smiled at Lexa, lightly pressing into her side for a brief moment, letting her hand scrape across the back of Lexa’s, knowing that she wasn’t at liberty to touch her the way she wanted, the way she yearned too. She excused herself when some of the ambassadors approached vying for Lexa’s attention, and when she’d stepped past Anya, she’d allowed her hand to find a place on the older woman’s hip, and she’d squeezed lightly smiling at the way Anya looked down at her.  _

_ It was over far too quickly, too subtle to be anything more than a small, familiar touch. But Clarke had been unaware of the dark eyes that had followed her every movement, or of the seething anger boiling in his gut, as he watched his friend’s betrayal.  _

She waited, not saying anything, not moving a muscle. She knew if she waited long enough, he would become uncomfortable with the silence, with the idea that she might be judging him, and he would blurt out everything he was thinking, even that which he wanted to hide. It was a trick she’d learned from Lexa, and she had been startled to watch Lexa wield her infinite patience and stoic silence like a finely honed blade. She’d watched even the strongest warriors crumble under Heda’s unyielding patience. 

He shifted uncomfortably, moving his weight from leg to leg, dropping his arms in disgust, before he finally broke. “You seem to be awfully cozy with that general!” He threw up his hands, his arms jerking slightly as he growled under his breath. “What is that about? And their leader? I saw you!” He hissed. 

Clarke simply stared at him, not moving except to arch one eyebrow, and it had the desired effect. Bellamy cursed and kicked at the hard dirt and leaves at his feet. “Just what the fuck have you been doing here all this time, Clarke? Huh?” He drove both hands through his hair, angrily rubbing at his head as he took a step closer to Clarke, not noticing the way she stiffened. 

“Do you know what is happening back at Camp Jaha? Do you even care? What about Jasper and Monty who are in the fucking mountain? Huh? Raven told me about the reapers, about the blood. And you knew, and you did nothing! They’re in danger, Clarke! Don’t you care!? Or are you too busy sucking up to these…” he growled, gesturing wildly as he took a step closer, pushing into Clarke’s space, “these...these savages!”

Clarke grit her teeth, her own anger erupting out of her like a scalding flood. “They aren’t savages, Bellamy! And who are you to judge?! And Care?! Care!? Who the hell do you think you are, Bellamy!” She stepped up to Bellamy, refusing to back down, to show fear in the face of his dark fury. “I know exactly what is happening in the mountain! I was there,” she hissed her voice cracking slightly. “And Anya and I escaped, but she took me prisoner.” 

She threw up her hand when he growled and started sputtering, “No, Bellamy. She was right to do it. She brought me before Lex...their Heda. She needed something to show for what happened at the Dropship, and I needed to speak to their leader and try to build an alliance.” 

He growled and turned away from her, crossing his arms over his chest. “You left us, Clarke. You left me,” he mumbled, pain coloring each word, “ You didn’t come back, didn’t send word. And now you tell me you were a prisoner, and yet, here you are…” he laughed, his voice rough and strained, “cuddling up to the enemy. Guess you like being a prisoner, prefer it to saving your people,” he sneered. 

She laughed then, “You really have no idea do you? What do you think I’ve been doing? I begged for an alliance, I swore my people would honor it. I paid the price for your and Raven and all of our sins, so I could wipe the slate clean!” She poked him hard in the shoulder, her own anger and incredulity at his lack of foresight getting the best of her. “I fixed it, Bellamy! I fixed everything. I convinced their Heda that we could take down the Mountain together, and then we went to Camp Jaha with gifts. Gifts, Bellamy! To cement the alliance.” She yelled, her voice carrying in the night air. 

“And you opened fire on us!” Her shoulders sagged, her anger quickly slipping away. “You killed Malcolm, you killed my mother,” she whispered, her voice choking. 

He laughed bitterly, his own guilt slithering between his ribs like tendrils of frost. “Cemented the alliance, huh? And how did you do that, Clarke? Hmmmmm? Did you get on your knees for that general? Oh yeah,” he laughed, “I heard all about the fact that some of the women have dicks.” He shrugged, “I don’t care about that, whatever, but did you?” He smirked at her, anger twisting his lips, his hurt shining in his eyes.

“You’re just a grounder whore.” 

She slapped him then, hard enough to leave a mark, not hard enough to damage him, but his eyes flared in anger and grief, and he grabbed her arm, his long fingers wrapping around her bicep as he jerked her toward him. He felt empty and hollow, his gut burning too hotly, his mouth sour with bitterness. He regretted it the moment he’d said it, but he couldn’t take it back now. And as he looked down into her dark blue eyes, her anger like forged steel, he knew. He knew. 

“If you want to keep that hand, you will release her now, boy.” 

He jerked as if he’d been struck, his head turning quickly at the sound of the voice. His eyes peered into the shadows clinging to the trees, and he almost pissed himself when the voice sounded again, closer to his ear. 

“You were warned.” 

He released Clarke’s arm, but it was too late as he turned to try and defend himself. He didn’t even see her move, but her hand was wrapped around his throat, squeezing. He grabbed the hand around his throat, his vision starting to blur as he panicked, slapping at her arms. 

“Anya!” Clarke grabbed Anya’s shoulder, not pulling or pushing, just squeezing lightly. “I’m fine, Anya. Please let him go.” 

Lexa moved up behind Clarke, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her back into her chest. “No. He doesn’t get to put his hands on you, and not suffer the consequences.”

“I hit him first.” 

“Yes, and I heard what he called you,” snarled Lexa. 

Clarke turned, pushing away from Lexa slightly so she could look into the older girl’s eyes. “Lexa, please. We need him.” She turned and looked at Anya, slightly surprised by the feral look on the older woman’s face, her lips twisted harshly over her teeth, the planes of her face tight and hard. She shivered involuntarily. 

“He’s a jackass, but he is my friend. I couldn’t have kept the delinquents together without him.” She turned back, her hand catching the loose fabric of Lexa’s shirt. She wiggled her fingers underneath her shirt, pressed her fingertips against the hot skin of Lexa’s stomach. “We need him to fight the Mountain. I-I have an idea,” she finished lamely, her eyes searching Lexa’s relaxing when the hard jade of her eyes softened. 

“Anya.” 

Anya growled, squeezing his neck hard one more time before she shoved him back, smirking as he tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground with a hard thud. She stood over him, watching as he coughed and rubbed at his neck, trying to suck in as much air as he could. She smirked when he winced, knowing that the harsh inhales were stinging his bruised throat. She had squeezed hard enough to damage his windpipe, just enough that he would remember this for days to come, but not enough damage to permanently incapacitate him. 

Lexa gestured to two of her guards who were standing in the shadows. “Take him to Gustus. Tell Gustus that he is to be confined to a hut. No one sees him, but Anya or I.” She watched as the two guards hauled Bellamy to his feet, pushing him roughly in front of them. The Skaiboy didn’t look at any of them, just hung his head, the redness of his cheek already fading, and walked forward without complaint as the guards pushed and prodded at him. 

Anya glared after the boy, before turning her attention back to Clarke. She touched Clarke’s hand, slid her fingers up her arm. “Did he hurt you?” She murmured, as she pulled up Clarke’s sleeve, examining the red ring around her bicep. She growled knowing it was going to bruise a little. 

“I’m fine, Anya.” She patted Anya’s arm and leaned back into Lexa slightly, enjoying the way the other girl slid both her arms around her waist. “Both of you. I’m fine.” She stressed the last word, before sighing a bit, fatigue nipping at her heels, grief settling heavy in her chest. 

She wasn’t fine. But they didn’t need to know that.


	17. Author's Note

Hi!

We just wanted to give you an update on the progress of the fic. This isn't a hiatus per se, but due to our respective workloads, me moving to a new house and Jude being ill, we are unfortunately a bit behind schedule. 

We would like to take the opportunity to thank everyone reading this fic, and leaving kudos and comments, to give us feedback, support and constructive criticism. You reaching out to us means a lot. 

The schedule disruption also affects Stone Witch Heat for those of you reading that Wynonna Earp fic, while Imprint should have a chapter posted by the end of the month.

Thank you for bearing with us. For questions or concerns you can sound off in the comments below, or find us on Tumblr at @kendrene and @bae-in-maine. And if you have prompts send those too! We'll (eventually) get around to writing them. 

Ste yuj

Jude and Dren


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rinnea gets honest and cozy. Clarke gets angsty. The Arkers get stupid. Kendrene is awesome. Also...Jude needs to learn to write shorter sex scenes. That's all you need to know about this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We miss you guys! And we hope you missed us just as much! *insert wicked cute teddy bear wink here*  
> \--Kendrene
> 
> We missed you all! Also (I'm gonna speak for Twin here also, 'cuz I know she'd agree with me) we both want to thank you for your kind words on our Author's Note. We felt bad that we hadn't updated in a while, but you guys were so awesome and supportive! Thank you so much! So here, have a nice long chapter. And smut. There's smut.   
> \--Jude

Linnea watched the dark haired girl amble off to the food tables, more than a bit unsteady on her feet. The skayons hadn’t had much to drink that she could see, but perhaps they weren’t used to the strong beer that the Horse Clan brewed. The young man - the girl’s brother as far as Linnea understood - had left some time before, a dark look in his eyes. He was trouble, Linnea knew from the way he’d been staring at Clarke the whole night, and if he had a mind of harming her friend…

But it wasn’t her place to intervene, not when Clarke had two others looking over her. Heda perhaps would understand, but she knew that Anya was jealous of the bond she had with Clarke, maybe more so because of the night she’d spent loving the blonde and drying her tears when the other General yet couldn’t. Confronting the boy would only make the situation worse.

Linnea sighed, then steeled herself, eyes coming to rest on Reivon. The girl was sitting kind of awkwardly next to a small fire, her bad leg stretched out to try and relieve the sore muscles.  

She took a shaky breath and gathered herself, thinking with a self-deprecating smile that no battle had ever made her this nervous. And she’d fought quite a few of those.  She shouldn’t have felt nervous. It wasn’t the first time she had tried to coax a girl into her bed, she was almost always successful, and rarely did she even have to convince them anymore. But this girl...the thought of charming her into her bed, and then being done with her in the morning left a sour taste in Linnea’s mouth. This girl was... _ different _ .

Picking up the plate of food and the jug of watered down wine she had collected from the long tables, the General strode across the clearing, coming to a halt next to the fire. 

“May I?” She said, gesturing to the empty spot next to Raven. 

“Uh...sure, I guess.” The girl had a confused look on her face as if she was unsure about the warrior’s motives.  

After Linnea had sat down next to her, the skai girl nodded toward a guard slouched against a nearby tree, trying to pretend he had not been keeping an eye on the skayons’ fire all night. 

“With your buddy on guard duty, you don’t need to be here. Don’t you have somewhere fun to be?”

“I am exactly where I want to be.” Linnea replied with a soft chuckle, admiring the girl’s spirit. Reivon’s words never lacked a little barb, but the General knew from what Clarke had said and having observed the brunette herself that there was more to the girl than badly concealed sarcasm.

“Suit yourself.” Raven shrugged, returning to her study of the fire, then yelped in surprise when Linnea pushed the plate of food onto her lap. 

“Eat. You haven’t touched a bite all night.” 

“I am not hungry.” Raven’s eyes narrowed dangerously, a spark of anger swirling in their depths, “have you been stalking me?” 

Linnea snorted. 

“One doesn’t need to stalk you to notice how scrawny you are.” She reached out and poked a finger into the girl’s side to drive the point home. 

Raven grunted, flinching away. Linnea hadn’t poked her hard enough to warrant that reaction, but the General’s words had gutted her clean, like a blade twisting deep into her belly and glancing off her bones. 

“You try and have enough food to go around with an alcoholic for a mother.” She snapped, even as she picked up a piece of meat, stuffing it into her mouth. 

She expected some kind of retort, so when none came she glanced to the older woman, finding that the General’s blue eyes were wide with confusion.

“She didn’t feed you?” Linnea asked incredulous, “up there...on the… the Ark.”

“Food was different up there on the Ark,” Raven shrugged as she wiped the juice off her lips, flicking her fingers downward, watching as the grease splashed into the flames, sizzling and popping much like Raven’s nerves. 

“I don’t understand.” 

Raven laughed, the sound rough and grating, bursting from her chest with too much violent emotion. “Yes, I’m sure you don’t.” She looked up, her eyes darkening in irritation as the general simply stared at her expectantly. 

“Ugh. You aren’t going to just drop this are you?” 

Linnea ducked her head to hide her smile. She shifted closer, the length of her thigh pressing lightly against Raven’s brace. And she waited. Long moments passed as she stared at the edges of the fire, her eyes continuing to flicker around, so they wouldn’t grow accustomed to the light of the fire and blind her when she looked away. But she could see the girl out of the corner of her eyes, picking at her food almost absently, head down, hair pulled back from her face. 

Long moments passed, before Raven finally sighed. She picked up the chunk of bread on her plate, tearing it into smaller pieces, anything to keep her mind occupied from what she was going to say. 

“You’re stubborn,” she murmured. “So am I. That served me well on the Ark. Food wasn’t like this…” she held up a chunk of the bread before dropping it back to her plate. “Much of our food was really protein paste that was synthesized in a lab. What few grains and vegetables grew in the hydroponics bay were not for people like me.” She snorted, contempt coloring each word, “that was for the elite, those who weren’t expendable and weren’t the daughter of an alcoholic.” 

She set the plate down next to her, appetite suddenly gone. “We had ration cards. If you used up your rations before the end of the week, you were shit out of luck. You couldn’t get more food until your next rations were awarded. My mum traded my rations for alcohol. I learned to survive on less every year. If it hadn’t been for…” her voice trailed off, and she stared into the fire, her jaw clenching as she grit her teeth. 

Linnea said nothing for long moments, but when it was obvious that Raven was done talking… “Food wasn’t always plentiful when I was a child. My clan was luckier than most, because we had a lot of natural resources, and we’d become adept at trading. But other clans…” she shifted, letting her shoulder press lightly against Raven’s. 

“There were Starving Times...entire villages…when I had seen my fourteenth summer, I was in a trade caravan with my mother. Winter’s Breath had been particularly hard, and many of the clans had little to trade. We went West, something we rarely did.” At Raven’s questioning look, she shook her head. “It’s too dangerous.” 

“But this time, we went...we came across abandoned villages, villages in which the people who had survived were little more than skin and bones...but one village...we found…” she sighed quietly, her voice dropping…”there were no children, but there was evidence of children. And the adults...they were all older than me, but not much older than me. They weren’t as weak and sick as the other villages. My mother...she did not like it. She hurried us away in the dead of night. She told me years later, she and one of the warriors with us had come across a huge pit, they had found hundreds of bones…small bones...” 

Raven winced, her hand coming up to rest on Linnea’s arm. She squeezed it lightly, and when Linnea turned to look at her, Raven simply left her arm there, heat coloring her cheeks. 

“But that was years ago...we haven’t had a Starving Time in years, even Azgeda has enough food now that they are part of the Coalition. It’s because of Heda. She brought the clans together, made them see that we were stronger together, we could fight the Mountain together...survive together. She helped establish treaties and trading that ensured that all the clans are fed all year, not just in the warm times and the harvest. Under her rule, there are no more villages like the ones we saw. ”

The mechanic nodded along with Linnea’s words, having heard much the same account from Clarke. Perhaps there was some hope for her people after all, although she knew that what had happened at the Camp’s gates had set all of Clarke’s efforts back to zero. 

They needed to go back to Camp Jaha - she, Octavia and Bellamy - with news of what they had seen, and try to make the Council see reason. Raven hadn’t counted all the warbands present, but she knew that they didn’t have nearly enough bullets if the grounders decided to attack. It was better to find a peaceful solution, one that included getting all of their people out of the Mountain.

“This is all well and good.” She finally said, picking up her plate again and scooping up some of the meat’s sauce with a chunk of bread, “but it doesn’t tell me why you seem to care so much about me specifically.” She popped the bread into her mouth and chewed, before shooting a wide-eyed look of fake innocent to the General. 

“Why did you stop Linus? You could have let him kill me and you’d still have two prisoners. Two non-crippled prisoners.”

A grimace crossed Linnea’s face. “First of all Clarke would have killed me, and second… well you may think of us as savages, but I never liked killing for the sake of it. Even an enemy’s life is sacred, something Linus seems to have forgotten.” 

The warrior fell quiet, a sullen expression curving her mouth downward. Raven watched the light of the fire dance across Linnea’s cheekbones and reflect into her eyes. Their clear blue looked darker in the soft glow of the flames, turned into bottomless pools of black. 

Raven finished eating in silence, shaking her head ruefully when she realized she’d devoured every scrap. 

“I think,” she said in the end, licking her fingers with a small sigh, “that you’re going through all of this trouble because you like me.” Linnea jerked as if she’d actually jabbed a finger between her ribs, and the brunette smirked softly.

“Are you trying to court me, General? Because I’ve heard about your reputation.” She was probably being rude, and even though Clarke had plenty of nice things to say about the raven-haired warrior, Raven wanted to see how she reacted to such a direct question. 

After what had happened with Finn she was more than a bit distrustful. 

“Maybe I am, Reivon.” Linnea’s head whipped around and when their eyes met, the woman’s were so cold that Raven shivered, “perhaps...I see things in you that I like. Things that make me care about what happens to you. But if my reputation is an issue…” She stopped abruptly and made to stand up. 

Raven reached out, fingers closing around the warrior’s sleeve, a sinking feeling knotting her stomach at the thought she had offended the General. 

“I don’t care much for reputation.” She muttered, cheeks heating with a blush, “my mother tried to kick her habit a couple of times, but she always slipped back because people treated her as a drunk even when she was sober. So I don’t care about the rumors… I…. I guess I am not used to people caring about me.”

“Well I do.” Linnea eased back down on the log, appearing mollified. “and I’d like to keep caring if you’ll allow me to.”

Raven’s mouth was suddenly dry, and she only managed a nod, edging a bit closer to the woman.  She could feel the strong length of her entire leg and side pressed against her own, and it felt reassuring, exciting. She’d never been with a woman before, only Finn. And one time with Bellamy. But when it came to love...there had only ever been Finn. She pushed the thought away of the boy she’d loved, who’d crushed her heart, who’d left her broken and simmering in pain. 

She looked up at Linnea out of the corner of her eye, admiring the warrior’s strong profile, the squared cut of her jaw, the plump lips. She blushed and dropped her gaze, before leaning back slightly and turning her face towards the heavens. The stars looked so different from Earth, and it took a moment to orient herself.

She breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of burning wood, cool air, warm leather and dirt. She reached out with her hand, her fingers digging slightly into Linnea’s leg, and when the warrior’s own hand covered her own and squeezed lightly, she let the air in her lungs out in a violent rush. 

Earth. A new beginning. Here, she would be judged on her own worth, not as the daughter of the Ark drunk. She would forge her own path, and maybe the woman beside her would be part of it. 

They sat staring at the fire for some time, no more words required between them for the time being.  

**************************

Clarke didn’t know whether it was the grief making her numb, or Bellamy’s hurtful words bleeding her spirit dry, but when Lexa and Anya started her towards Heda’s tent she didn’t protest. Her only regret was that the Commander’s hands fell away as they approached the feast, and even if she understood why it had to be that way, Clarke still missed their warmth. 

Lexa walked beside her without speaking, hands now held loosely at the small of her back, shoulders drawn into a severe line, and a few of the Ambassadors made to approach her, but when they read whatever was on her face they thought better of it, hiding sudden discomfort in food and drink. 

Anya’s quiet demeanour was entirely different - each of her steps full of barely repressed violence, her strong, slender fingers worrying the dagger at her waist, and Clarke heard her mutter lowly, too fast to understand, but she had a feeling Anya was arguing with herself - probably on whether or not to slit Bellamy’s throat, she figured.

She grimaced, mouth souring as Bellamy’s words echoed inside her skull. She knew they weren’t true, that she’d done all that she could to ensure Lexa would consider an alliance. 

Still it hurt - not because he had called her a whore - but because the insult had come from someone who had fought at her side for survival. In the beginning it had not been easy and they had found themselves at odds, but as time passed Bellamy had accepted her leadership and proven capable in a tight spot. 

Clarke sighed, heart thudding hollow, the mark he’d left on her arm throbbing in time with each beat. After tonight she wasn’t sure they were friends any longer. 

She quickened her step, suddenly unable to bear the presence of so many people around her, their laughter and stories and songs too stark a reminder of what she wouldn’t be able to share with her mother any longer. There wouldn’t be late night talks about Anya and Lexa, or how they had started to make her feel, no moment of trepidation as she searched Abby’s sharp eyes for her approval. 

All Clarke could do was rush into the tent, knowing her hope to outrun the grief was but a stupid dream that would never come true. 

She was aware of Anya’s startled question, the General calling her name, and Lexa’s quieter murmur - Heda immediately understanding that she needed this time of retreat within herself. 

Somehow Clarke managed to shuck her boots and get rid of most of her clothes before flinging herself on bed, hands tugging a pelt over her head so that she could shut out the flickering torchlight that filtered into the tent and with it the entire world.

One moment she was taking a shuddering breath against the pillows, her whole body aching and the next she startled awake, as if a hidden switch had been flicked within her, telling her it was the deepest, darkest part of the night.  Clarke wasn’t sure what had awoken her, perhaps her own nightmares, but her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep, despite the fact that she had been sleeping deeply enough not to remember what had happened. 

She sat up carefully, slowly pushing Anya’s arm off her hips. She held her breath when the general shifted in her sleep, mumbling incoherently before settling back into the bed. She bit her lip as she turned her head and looked at Lexa, curled into a ball facing her, her arms held tight to her chest, fists tucked under her chin, as if she was afraid that her hands would wander in the night. 

It made it easier for Clarke to sneak out of the bed, as she pushed herself to the end of the bed, and rose on unsteady legs. She turned and looked at them, Anya’s arm now laying in the space between their bodies, where she had just been laying. But the sight of Lexa tugged particularly hard at her heart, and she felt the cold weight of grief settle around her shoulders. It was becoming all too familiar, and she supposed there was some strange comfort in knowing that. 

She stepped out of their sleeping chamber and carefully picked her way across the large room of the tent to the brazier in the middle. She squatted down, poking at the coals with a small stick. She stirred them to life, watching as the coals pulsed and glowed in reds and oranges. She remembered when the delinquents had first managed to make a fire, but she had been too hungry to appreciate the fundamental beauty. 

She sat down cross-legged in front of the small brazier, resting her elbows on the inside of her knees, chin in her hand, and she stared, slightly mesmerized by the coals. The flames licked at the small pieces of partially burned wood nestled between the coals, and she watched as the wood eventually disintegrated into ash.

She wished her grief would burn itself out, turn to ash like the wood so she could be done with it. She would spread it in the Trikru winds, and let it drift to the far reaches of earth. She shifted slightly, letting out a small sigh. Every muscle seemed to ache and burn, and she knew it had nothing to do with her wounds, but everything to do with the grief she wore like a shroud. 

She stared lazily into the fire, her eyes entranced by the flames, her mind quiet, while the grief swirled inside her chest, frosting her ribs. It wasn’t until she heard the soft footsteps behind her, each step just deliberately loud enough for her to hear so they wouldn’t startle her, that she realized she was crying. She laughed, but it turned into a sob as it pushed past her lips, and then strong fingers cupped her face, thumbs wiping away her tears. 

She said nothing, but reached up, covering the hands cupping her face, pulling them away, and boldly dropping a kiss to each palm, lingering long enough to make the other woman squirm. The smile trembled on her lips, and Clarke couldn’t bring herself to meet her eyes, but she tangled her fingers with the other woman’s, and pulled her down to sit next to her. They were silent, both sitting cross-legged, knees touching, hands tangled together. 

Neither spoke, just watched the fire as it spit and jumped, breathing and dancing through the coals. She scooted back a little so she could stretch her legs out a bit, and she shifted closer, gingerly pressing against the other girl’s side, and when Lexa wrapped her arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer, she let out a rush of air, she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She rested her head on the older girl’s shoulder, the storm of grief settling in her chest. 

They sat that way for long moments, Lexa’s thumb tracinging small circles on the top of her palm, her breath steady and deep. Clarke took comfort in it, the solid weight of Lexa’s body against her’s, the strong, reassuring strength of the arm that held her firmly but with care.

She pressed her nose into the crook of Lexa’s neck, enjoying the feel of the heated warmth. She pressed a soft kiss below her ear, freezing when she felt Lexa stiffen slightly. She waited a moment and then pressed her lips more firmly against Lexa’s warm skin, and she smiled when the brunette sighed what sounded suspiciously like her name. 

She decided to be bold, and she twisted her body, swinging her leg over Lexa’s lap so she could straddle her. She settled into her lap, her arms around Lexa’s shoulders, her face pressed into the crook of her neck. She squeezed Lexa tight against her, gratified when she felt the other girl’s arms wrap around her waist, pulling her more firmly into her own body. 

“Clarke?” 

Clarke pulled her face from the damp, sweet crook of Lexa’s neck, shaking her head, cupping Lexa’s face with her hand. She pressed her thumb across Lexa’s lips and shook her head, “No. No, talking.” 

When Lexa opened her mouth to protest, Clarke slipped her thumb into Lexa’s mouth, sighing quietly when Lexa’s mouth closed around it, her tongue curling around her thumb, pulling it deeper into her mouth. 

She groaned at the feel of Lexa’s tongue curling around her thumb, sucking lightly on the tip. She pulled it out of Lexa’s hot mouth, and she pressed her mouth against Lexa’s, nipping lightly at her full lips, swallowing Lexa’s small whimper. She pushed her tongue into her mouth, anxious to taste more of Lexa, memorize the flavor of her moans falling into her open mouth. She pulled at her shirt, drawing it up Lexa’s back, grunting in frustration when it caught around Lexa’s neck, but she wasn’t willing to pull back enough, to break their feverish kiss in order to pull it fully over Lexa’s head. 

Lexa reluctantly tore her mouth from Clarke’s, already missing the wet heat of her mouth. “Clarke,  _ hodnes… _ .” She grabbed Clarke’s hips, squeezing firmly to get the blonde’s attention. “It’s ok, Clarke. Let me take it off.” 

Clarke sighed in frustration, partly due to the sudden stop, but also because she didn’t understand why she was suddenly so anxious, almost ravenous to feel Lexa’s skin against her own hot, itchy skin, feel the other girl’s teeth sink into her flesh, her fingers map every inch of her body, pull her apart piece by piece. 

She groaned and dropped her forehead on Lexa’s shoulder, hunching her own. She clutched the bottom of Lexa’s shirt in her hands, tears biting at her eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to just collapse into the cradle of Lexa’s body and forget about the grief pouring into her empty chest, rooting between her ribs.

Lexa sighed, bringing both hands up to cup Clarke’s face, forcing the blonde to look at her. “I’m here,” she murmured as she kissed her gently, her nose bumping against Clarke’s. “You’re safe here, and it will get better, hodnes.” 

Clarke laughed, the sound harsh and wet, and she pulled back nodding, wiping away her tears. She reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and tossing it aside. She wasn’t wearing her bra, and she smirked when Lexa sucked in her breath sharply. 

“Take yours off.” 

Lexa was already pulling her own shirt off, before she even realized the command in Clarke’s voice. She let it fall to the ground, before wrapping her arms around Clarke again, pulling the younger girl into her arms. She shivered at the feel of Clarke’s bare breasts against her own, and when the blonde’s hungry mouth found her own again, she could do nothing but submit to the urgent press of her lips and tongue, relishing the feel of the her teeth nipping at her lips. 

They spent long moments kissing, their tongues tangling and sliding against each other, hands mapping the muscles and smooth skin of each other’s backs, before Clarke finally pushed back, stumbling to her feet, pulling at Lexa’s arms. 

Lexa allowed Clarke to pull her to her feet, stepping into the warmth of Clarke’s body, automatically wrapping her arms around the girl’s waist. She pressed her face into the dark crook of the blonde’s neck, licking and sucking at the moist skin there. She tasted sweet and salty, and Lexa mumbled unintelligently, laving the girl’s pulse, sucking a beautiful lilac blossom into it. 

Clarke stepped back, pulling on Lexa’s arms, back towards the bedchamber. “Is Anya awake?”

Lexa nodded, “sha. She knows.” 

“Good.” 

Lexa grabbed Clarke’s hand, pulling the girl to a stop, pulling her back into her arms. “Are you sure, Clarke? Are you sure this is what you want?” 

Clarke licked her dry lips, nodding. She wrapped her hand around the back of Lexa’s neck, resting her forehead against Lexa’s, “Yes. I just want to be with you and Anya. I want to be yours,” she muttered, her voice catching on the last word. 

“You already are. And I’m yours, and Anya is yours,” murmured Lexa as she pressed her cheek against Clarke’s, pulling her into the tower of her strong body. 

Clarked kissed Lexa’s cheek, the grief in her chest quieting, and she could breathe easier. “Then you should take me to bed. Anya is waiting for us.” 

Lexa nodded, bending slightly, her hands coming around Clarke, grasping her bottom and lifting her. She grinned at Clarke’s startled squeal, but the blonde automatically wrapped her legs around Lexa’s waist, her mouth finding the edge of Lexa’s jaw, and Lexa just prayed she would get her to the bed before dropping her. 

It was only a few steps, but her brain was starting to grow fuzzy at the feel of Clarke’s mouth on her jaw and neck, the heat of her pelvis pushing into her own. She stumbled the remaining few steps, getting slightly tangled in the heavy leather curtains separating the sleeping chamber from the big room. She grunted as she emerged, craning her neck around Clarke’s shoulder to meet Anya’s amused glance. 

“Here,” she grunted as she stepped to the bed, dropping Clarke into Anya’s waiting arms. She chuckled as Clarke refused to let go of her, pulling her down on top of her. Her legs jerked, splaying out behind her, and it was inelegant at best, slightly uncomfortable at worst. She pressed her face into Clarke’s belly, supporting her weight on her hands and toes. 

Anya caught Clarke, pulling her into her arms, her back against her chest. But the sudden addition of Lexa’s weight forced her back against the pillows, and she winced as Clarke and Lexa’s weight settled on her semi-hard cock. 

She’d awoken almost the moment Clarke had left their bed, but she’d hesitated, realizing the blonde needed a few minutes alone. So she and Lexa had waited quietly, neither speaking in the dark room, both a little unsure, but their hearts aching for the girl in front of the fire. Eventually it had been Lexa who’d gone out after her, lending her quiet strength. Anya had the tendency to want to fix everything, to take action, but what Clarke had needed was silence, someone to just exist with her between each breath and the next. 

She wrapped her arms around Clarke’s waist, pushing the girl forward as she sat up, one hand grasping Lexa’s shoulder and pushing her off. “Off. This position is not going to work,” she chuckled. And once Lexa had clambered to her feet, Anya pushed herself up into a reclining position, pulling Clarke more firmly into her lap, forcing the girl to drag her bottom against her cock. She bit her lip as her member twitched, enjoying the slight friction, before silently scolding herself for being too excited. 

She dropped her face to Clarke’s shoulder, kissing across both shoulders, her palms flat and warm against Clarke’s belly. She nipped and sucked lightly, keeping her touch soft. She dragged her fingertips up Clarke’s belly, encouraging the girl to lean fully back into her. She let her fingers wander, play across the bows of her ribs, smirking when Clarke shivered in her arms. 

Clarke reached both arms up and around Anya’s neck, trying to pull the woman down so she could kiss her neck, but Anya resisted, tutting to her softly when she grumbled. “Just relax, Clarke. Close your eyes.” She pressed her lips against Clarke’s neck, waiting for Clarke to give in and do as instructed. When Clarke closed her eyes, she drew her hands up lightly, cupping her breasts, mapping the curves and dips with just her fingertips. 

Anya’s fingers were calloused by sword training and hard work, so different from the soft skin of her own hands. Clarke did her best to follow the warriors instructions and let go of the tension making her bones itch, but although she closed her eyes as ordered she couldn’t let go completely.

She felt like she was burning under the older woman’s touch, and when the bed dipped with Lexa’s weight, the brunette’s hand drawing lazy circles on her belly, Clarke knew that it was so. 

She was being burned alive. Branded. 

Her lovers’ hands traced her sides and the contours of her ribs  purposefully slow, a molten lava flow that left blistered flesh in its wake. And the flames that charred her bones and boiled her blood spelled out their names across her flesh, leaving Clarke’ to shake helplessly with need in Anya’s arms. 

She was theirs and marked as such by hands ghosting on her skin, and yet it didn’t matter. The shadow of grief fell across her heart, threatening to snuff out the fires burning within her and Clarke twisted in Anya’s arms, desperate to escape the chill her pain carried with it. 

She craved them to be rough, to mark her with tooth and nail and leave throbbing bruises on her flesh, hoping that the sting of it all would make the pain twisting her gut recede. 

She grabbed Anya’s hand, bringing it up to her breast, cupping the woman’s long fingers around her flesh. She squeezed Anya’s hand hard, sucking in air sharply, letting it punch into her lungs, as she bowed her back slightly, muttering under her breath. 

Anya bent her head, noting the way the blonde grit her teeth, the way she continued to command Anya’s fingers, exerting enough pressure to bruise the girl’s tender flesh. It left an unsettled ache in Anya’s belly, at the sight of the girls clenched teeth, the muscle that ticked in her cheek. She knew if she looked hard enough in the dim light, the blue of her eyes would glow with unshed tears. 

She pulled her hand out from under Clarke’s, ignoring the way Clarke’s fingers scrabbled for her own, trying to force them to stay. She pressed her cheek against Clarke’s, slipping her arms down to the girl’s waist and pulling her back even tighter into the curve of her own body. Anya wished she could pull the girl beneath the shelter of her own skin, crack open her own chest, wrap her ribs around her and protect her from the long days ahead. They were faced by a possible war, and despite everything that had happened between Clarke and the other Skaikru, Anya knew that if violence erupted it would take its greatest toll on the blonde as she was the one caught between two different fires. 

“No.” Anya’s arms tightened around Clarke, holding her firmly into her lap. “that isn’t what you need tonight.”

The blonde wanted to scream, to throw Anya’s words back in the warrior’s face, but as she opened her mouth, the General’s lips grazed the exit wound that the bullet had left on her back.

Clarke’s breath left her in a rush, and she was winded from it, as if her heart had kept its gallop up too long and was now giving out. Her lungs stuttered, swelled for a moment then slowly began to crumble like buildings on the verge of collapse until they were lungs no longer, but a mountain of ruins Clarke could only try and put back together.

Breathing had always been the safest, most reassuring thing her body did, a rhythm Clarke could count out when nerves were fraying. But Anya’s tender gesture had turned it to a struggle and she was reminded of how close she’d come to not drawing breath at all. 

A sob tumbled out of her and then another, her chest heaving in time with each sound. She was dimly aware of Lexa pressing closer, of the Commander’s hand finding her own as tender kisses were scattered across her cheeks. 

Clarke let the tears fall, not bothering to wipe them away. She was dimly aware of soft lips pressing against her cheeks and mouth and nose and chin, of strong hands rubbing soothing circles on her belly, and another set of lips kissing across the back of her shoulders. 

She sniffled after a few moments, blushing furiously as she raised her eyes to meet warm, green ones right in front of her. She hadn’t planned on tears, she’d planned on sweat and love bites and moans and half-whispered gasps. She groaned in embarrassment when Lexa offered her a wet cloth for her face, noting the small smile dancing at the corners of the brunette’s mouth. 

Once she’d wiped her face, Lexa took the cloth and tossed it aside. She leaned back in Anya’s arms, trying to pretend she felt more at ease than she really was. “Sorry,” she muttered, picking at the thin fabric of Anya’s shorts. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Anya slowly drew her palm up Clarke’s belly and over her breasts and up her cheek. She braced her thumb against the side of Clarke’s chin, her fingers just barely curled around the slope of her neck. She turned Clarke’s face towards her own, pressing soft kisses on the corner of her mouth. “Apologies aren’t needed, Clarke. You’ve had to say goodbye to your mother. Mourning is necessary, it is how we heal.” 

Clarke grunted, tilting her face upward, ignoring the strain in her neck. Her lips found Anya’s. The kiss was clumsy and awkward, her neck only tilting so far, but she hoped she still managed to convey what she wanted to Anya. 

And when she felt the hand resting on her thigh, fingertips caressing the skin just under the leg of her shorts, she reached down and grabbed it, pulling Lexa’s hand and tucking it between her legs. She grinned against Anya’s mouth, when she heard the slight gasp from Lexa, and she opened her legs wider when she felt Lexa press her palm firmly against her center. 

She reluctantly pulled away from Anya’s mouth, turning her head back around so she could see Lexa kneeling on the bed between her legs. She shifted, biting her lips at the feel of Anya’s stiff cock tucked between her lower back and Anya’s stomach. She muttered an apology when she heard Anya grunt as she shifted again and pulled her legs up, so her heels were closer to the back of her thighs. She held out both hands to Lexa, encouraging the older girl to shuffle closer between her legs. 

Lexa shuffled forward, trying to balance on the bed, and still keep her hand pressed against Clarke’s sex. She realized it wasn’t going to work as well as she originally thought, and she scooted back a little, ignoring Clarke’s displeased murmurs. Once she had more room, she leaned forward on her hands and knees, pressing her fingers firmly against CLarke’s clothed sex. She used her other hand to balance herself, placing it near Anya’s hip. 

She pressed her lips to Clarke’s, enjoying the way the girl eagerly kissed her back, opening her mouth to Lexa’s tongue. She shuddered when Clarke’s tongue tangled with hers, and when she nipped her lower lip, the other girl squeaked, causing Lexa to push forward eagerly.  

But soon it wasn’t enough, and Clarke’s hands found the top of Lexa’s shorts, pulling at them and grunting between kisses. She finally pulled back enough to put her hand on Lexa’s chest and pushing slightly.

“Too hot. We’re overdressed.” She could feel sweat wicking her skin, and her hair was starting to stick to her flushed cheeks. She chuckled weakly when Lexa grunted, leaning forward, pushing against Clarke’s hand in an attempt to kiss her again. 

“Off. Take your shorts off,” groused Anya as she slid her hands under Clarke’s thighs, and lifting her up and over her lap to dump her on the bed. She shrugged at Clarke’s quiet huff as she quickly stood, stamping her legs that had started to go to sleep. She pulled her shorts down, tossing them aside, relieved at the sudden release of pressure on her cock. She wrapped her hand around her erect member, tugging lightly on it, before releasing it, reminding herself that it wasn’t about her tonight. 

She sat back on the bed, righting the pillows and leaning back against the headboard. She patted her lap, smirking at the way Clarke’s eyes widened, and the rush of heat that flooded her cheeks. She reached out, hooking one finger under the top waistband of Clarke’s shorts, pulling the girl to her. She pressed her lips against Clarke’s, kissing her softly, enjoying the hot taste of her on her tongue. She slid both hands down into CLarke’s shorts, palming her bottom and squeezing. She swallowed the small squeak that tumbled from CLarke’s mouth and pushed the girl’s shorts down her legs. 

Once Clarke had managed to kick her shorts away, Anya reluctantly turned Clarke so she was sitting in her lap again, back to her chest. She grabbed her cock, pumping it once, then settling it between the small of Clarke’s back and her own belly. She reached around, running her hands up and down Clarke’s thighs, while she watched Lexa pull her shorts off. 

“You’re beautiful, Lexa,” murmured Anya, her eyes darkening as she nipped at Clarke’s shoulder, her fingers tracing idle patterns on her thighs. 

Lexa blushed, still not used to Anya’s compliments. She hadn’t even been used to Costia’s compliments. She shrugged, bringing her left arm down in front of her and clasping it with her right. It managed to hide part of her naked body, but not enough. 

“She’s right. You are so beautiful, Lexa,” whispered Clarke, her voice tinged in awe. She knew Lexa was beautiful, but she hadn’t really thought about how soft and yet strong the girl would look without her clothes. She automatically held open her arms, wiggling her fingers slightly as Lexa looked at her uncertainly. 

“Please?” She wasn’t even sure what she was asking for, she only knew that Lexa was too far away from her, and she craved the other girl, yearned to feel her pressed against her own body. She wanted to dance her fingers along the lattice of her ribs, press her fingers into the divots at the base of her spine, lay her ear against her heart, kiss the soft curve of her belly. And she wanted to hear Lexa whisper words in her ear that she couldn’t understand, wanted to bask in her half gasps and the tremors of her muscles. She wanted to lose herself in the wet heat of her. 

Lexa nodded, her mouth too dry to answer, and she stumbled forward, as awkward as a new foal. She caught Anya’s amused smile, and she would have winced, except she saw her own desire reflected in the golden swirls of Anya’s dark eyes. 

She crawled onto the bed, hesitating as she tried to figure out the best way to be close to them both. Clarke was seated between Anya’s open legs, her own open, and Lexa bit her lip at the glimpse of dark golden curls. 

“Sit in my lap.” 

She jerked her head up, startled at the unexpected husk in Clarke’s voice. It caused an involuntary shiver that she failed to conceal much to Anya’s amusement. But she nodded as she she shuffled forward, relieved when Anya’s hands came up to guide her. It took a moment of half-whispers and limbs moving against the furs, brushing against each other before Lexa was sitting in Clarke’s lap facing her. 

Lexa slid her left hand behind Clarke’s head, coaxing the girl to angle her head slightly, as her lips eagerly sought Clarke’s. She reached up with her right hand, past Clarke’s shoulder to caress the side of Anya’s face. And when she felt Clarke’s arms wrap around her waist, sure hands mapping the muscles of her back, she shivered and sighed into Clarke’s mouth. 

Anya leaned her head into Lexa’s touch, knowing that tonight was about Clarke and about Lexa, but warmed that Lexa still wanted that connection with Anya. She slid her hands up Clarke belly, the back of her knuckles scraping lightly against Lexa’s belly, and once she reached Clarke’s breasts she palmed them, squeezing gently. 

She teased her fingertips around her nipples, smiling when her nipples plumped and hardened under her touch. She tugged on them lightly, grinning when Clarke moaned. 

“You like that?” She pinched both nipples, barely biting back her own gasp when Clarke shifted in her lap, the top of the blonde’s bottom scraping deliciously against her cock. 

Clarke gasped, arching into Anya’s touch as a groan escaped her lips. She wanted to answer the question,  but she was too distracted by Anya’s long fingers, pulling and tugging lightly on her nipples, Lexa’s mouth on her neck, her hands sliding up her thighs, lightly scratching at the soft skin. She let her eyes close, her head tilted back on Anya’s shoulder, her mind growing hazy, as she slowly relaxed into their embrace. 

She let herself sink slowly, floating gently down, no longer able to tell their hands apart, no longer able to differentiate the soft, husky murmurs shimmering around her. Her body was warm, her skin tingling slightly, her thighs damp with promise; and when the orgasm hit, it took her by surprise in it’s gentle simplicity, the way it snuck upon her, warmed all of her muscles, left her gasping and shaking slightly. 

When Clarke opened her eyes again, blinking in the dim light, she expected to feel embarrassed, but the light stain on her cheeks flared only briefly, dying quickly at the sight of Lexa’s face hovering close to her own. She wasn’t sure she knew how to describe the look on the older girl’s face. Her mouth was parted slightly, full lips shining with the last swipe of her tongue, a flush highlighting her sharp cheekbones. But perhaps it was the soft glistening of her eyes, more so than the rapid puffs of air that buffeted Clarke’s lips, that made the last tendrils of nervousness disappear as quickly as morning fog on a hot day. 

She leaned forward the couple of inches to rest her forehead against Lexa’s. She wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling her forward, slotting their lips together perfectly. She trailed her fingers down the older girl’s taut back, massaging the base of her spine, before running her palms around her hips, squeezing firmly at Lexa’s flesh, mapping her thighs. 

She slipped her hands under Lexa’s thighs tugging her forward so her bottom and her pelvis tilted towards her. It was slightly awkward, and Lexa had to lean back and brace herself on one hand, her long legs dangling over Clarke’s thighs and waist. 

But the moment she was in position, Clarked took a deep breath, biting her lip a little, as she let her fingers venture between Lexa’s thighs. She smiled when Lexa nodded at her, and when her fingers found wet heat, the smile bloomed across her face, making her feel slightly giddy. She parted Lexa’s folds, grinning at the way the older girl’s eyes fluttered close, at the way her breath stuttered in the air between them. 

Clarke slid her fingers between Lexa’s folds, gently exploring the dips and feathers of her body, until her fingers brushed against her clit. And when Lexa sighed, jerking her hips into Clarke’s hand, she realized she wanted nothing more than to taste each moan and sigh of the other girl. She wrapped her hand firmly around the back of Lexa’s neck, pulling her as close as she could. She pressed her mouth tightly to Lexa’s, pushing her tongue between the brunette’s lips, tasting the soft sighs that lit and died within her mouth. 

She rubbed her clit, her fingertips catching on the underside as it plumped and hardened under her clumsy strokes. It wasn’t particularly elegant or even smooth, but the way Lexa groaned, pushing her sex more firmly into Clarke’s hand was all she needed to guide her. She angled her hand, letting the tips of her fingers brush against her center, and she grinned against Lexa’s mouth, biting the girl’s lips lightly at the way her entrance clenched against the ghosting of Clarke’s fingers. 

“What do you want?” She scraped her teeth along her chin, kissing and nipping along Heda’s jawline to bury her face in the hot, moist crook of her neck. She pressed the heel of her palm firmly against Lexa’s clit, grinding it lightly, just barely dipping inside of Lexa with her fingertips. She tapped her entrance, circling it lightly with her fingertips. 

Lexa groaned, her mind fuzzy around the edges. She was vaguely aware of Anya’s hand on her breast, her hard fingers rolling her nipple just the way she liked it, of trails of sweat dripping down her belly, and fingers slipping through her folds, teasing her, plucking her body like a violin. She could feel the tingle in her toes, the straining pounding in her clit, and she was sure she could taste her own heartbeat on her tongue as she panted for air, trying to form words that would give her what she wanted. 

“Y-you,” she stuttered. It was the best she could do as her chest heaved, and she tilted her head back, giving Clarke more access to her throat, which the younger girl greedily took, dragging her teeth down the fine column of her throat, biting and sucking, while Lexa pumped her hips against Clarke’s hand, trying to get her to move her fingers. 

But it was enough, and Clarke pressed one finger slowly into Lexa. Her eyes widened at the feel of the smooth, pulsing muscles clasping around her finger, pulling it deeper. She followed the rhythm of Lexa’s body, letting her fingers sink all the way inside, while she sucked lilac blossoms along her collarbone. 

Anya pressed her front to Clarke’s back, peering over the other girl’s shoulder. She still had one arm wrapped around Clarke’s belly, her other hand on Lexa’s breast, tugging and rolling the hard nipple between her fingertips. But she released it in favor of letting her fingers drift down Lexa’s belly, swiping the sweat along the faint outline of her abdominal muscles. She turned her hand palm up underneath Clarke’s hand, gently guiding Clarke to pump slowly into Lexa. 

She pressed her fingers against the back of Clarke’s palm, before sliding one finger down, pressing against Lexa’s entrance. She grinned wickedly when Lexa groaned, as she circled the skin of Clarke’s finger where it disappeared inside of Lexa. 

“You want something, Heda?” Anya chuckled when Lexa gave her a sour look, but Lexa’s dilated eyes and the sweat running down between her breasts did little to command the respect of Heda. And Lexa was secretly pleased at the way her title fell from Anya’s lips, soft and husky, teasing but still commanding her in a way that Lexa rarely experienced. Not that she would admit it out loud, not that it mattered, because she knew Anya already knew.

She pressed forward slowly, her finger resting on top of Clarke’s as she pushed the tip of her index finger inside of Lexa, enjoying the way the younger woman gasped and jerked her hips. She pressed her cheek next to Clarke’s, kissing the rim of her ear, “I think the mighty Heda wants something from us, if the way she keeps jerking her hips is any indication?” 

She licked Clarke’s earlobe, sucking it gently into her mouth. She laved it with her tongue, flicking it absently, before releasing it with a pop. She smirked at the way Clarke shuddered in her arms. “You feel good in my mouth, but I bet your clit would feel better.” 

Clarke jerked, almost squealing at Anya’s words, so surprised by the husky burr reverberating in her ear. She bit her lip hard, forcing herself to concentrate, refusing to imagine what it would feel like to be splayed out on the bed, Anya between her legs licking and sucking at her sex. She couldn’t stop the burn that flushed across her skin at the thought, and she knew that Anya noticed it, but thankfully the older woman seemed to take mercy on her, turning her attention back to Lexa. 

“Well, Lexa?”

Lexa grit her teeth, glaring at Anya, not really angry, but not wanting to admit how close she was to simply begging for Anya and Clarke to fuck her. She ignored the burn in her shoulders as she placed both arms behind her, palms flat on the ground as she raised her hips, trying to gain enough leverage to force Anya’s finger to sink inside her along Clarke’s. But Anya simply tutted at her, refusing to give Lexa the leverage she wanted. 

She could tell from the way Anya smirked at her, that she wasn’t going to allow Lexa to simply take what she wanted. She would have to ask for it. She closed her eyes briefly, wondering why she was fighting Anya when she so desperately wanted nothing more than to feel them both fuck her at the same time. She whimpered, choking on the sound, and when she opened her eyes, Clarke was leaning into her, only inches away. 

“Please, Lexa, tell me what you want. Tell me again.” 

It was her undoing, and she shuddered as Clarke’s soft words washed over her sticky skin. “You. F-fuck me. Both of you.” She barely managed to get the words out, before Clarke’s eyes were already darkening, her lips curling over her teeth in a smile that both frightened and aroused Lexa. She wasn’t prepared for the way Clarke curled her finger, scraping her front wall as she pumped into her. She certainly wasn’t prepared for the way Anya’s finger slid in under Clarke’s stretching her further. 

The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, Anya’s cock was bigger, even Anya’s two fingers were bigger than Clarke and Anya’s finger together. But the way Clarke dragged her finger across her front wall, tapping against the soft, spongy place; the way Anya twisted her finger when she pushed in. She could feel her orgasm building quickly, growing and twisting inside of her, tendrils of heat curling and burning hotter than she ever imagined. 

She whimpered, raising her hips, pushing back against their fingers, impaling herself further on them. She jogged her hips, groaning and panting at the burn in her fingers and toes. “Too quick,” she barely managed to choke out, wanting to stave off her orgasm which was bearing down on her like a summer storm. She wanted to enjoy the way their fingers pumped inside of her, alternating the tempo. But when she felt Anya’s thumb press on her clit, she knew she couldn’t hold it off much longer. Anya wouldn’t let her. 

Clarke pulled back slightly when she heard Lexa’s whispered words, but Anya dropped her hand down between Clarke’s legs, squeezing her gently, before sliding her fingers down between CLarke’s folds. She pressed her lips to Clarke’s neck, licking the salt swelling on her skin. She hummed, dragging her fingers through Clarke’s sticky wetness, delighting in the way Clarke shuddered and whimpered, opened her legs just a little wider to accommodate Anya’s hand.

Her fingers found Clarke’s clit, and she circled it, rubbing it gently until it peeked out from under it’s head. She couldn’t see it from her angle, but she could imagine it turning red, could feel it swelling under her fingers. She pinched the root slightly, kissing Clarke’s chin when she whimpered and gasped at the sudden sting of pain. 

“Shhhhh...it’s ok,” she murmured as she kissed along Clarke’s shoulders, waiting for the girl to relax. Once she did, she released her clit, smiling at the way Clarke groaned from the sudden pounding of blood in her clit. “If you slow down, if you stop fucking Lexa, I’m going to stop touching you,” she whispered as she drew her fingers through Clarke’s wet sex. 

Clarke shuddered and nodded, unable to speak. Her tongue felt too thick in her mouth, and she could feel the beads of sweat rolling down her breasts, could feel her own wetness painting her thighs, dripping onto the furs. She forced herself to ignore the ball of heat growing in her lower belly, forced herself not to think about the way Anya’s fingers felt rubbing and tapping her clit. 

She grabbed Lexa’s thigh, tugging the girl towards her more as she pumped her finger into Lexa, scraping the front wall each time she withdrew. She groaned at the way Lexa’s sex clenched around her finger, at the way the muscles tried desperately to pull her deeper, hold her in, prevent her from leaving it unfilled.

“Remember if you stop, I stop,” Anya pressed herself tightly against Clarke’s back, smiling when Clarke jerked her head, clearly unable or unwilling to waste her concentration on replying. She played with her clit, rubbing it and flicking it, enjoying the way Clarke jerked each time she flicked it. She could only imagine what it would feel like to be inside of Clarke, feel her jerk and twitch around her cock if she flicked her clit. She ground her teeth, barely holding back her own moan as her cock gave a particularly hard throb, more pre-cum spurting from the purple head. The pounding pressure was becoming almost too much, and she could feel how tight and hard her balls were, tucked up under her cock. 

She pumped harder into Lexa, pressing her thumb on top of her clit and grinding lightly then more firmly. She felt Lexa clench hard around her finger, and she smiled as Lexa jerked her hips, bowing her back and freezing, small murmurs and curses tumbling from her lips as the orgasm crashed through her muscles. She pressed her finger deeper into Lexa, twisting it and rubbing against her walls, helping her ride out the orgasm. 

She pressed her fingers firmly against Clarke’s clit, rubbing it hard, and the girl gave a sharp shudder and cry in her arms, her head thumping back heavily on Anya’s shoulder. She coaxed her through the orgasm, whispering sweet words in her ear, that she knew Clarke didn’t understand but one day she would. 

Lexa groaned at the encroaching black that slithered into her vision. She whimpered helplessly as Clarke and Anya continued to pump into her tight sex, and her body could do nothing but ride the wave of heat crashing and hissing through her veins. She was floating, the light disappearing completely, and she was vaguely aware that maybe she was falling, but nothing else mattered but the gentle roar of waves in her ears. 

It took Anya a moment to realize that Lexa had slumped back onto the bed, her limbs splayed out like a rag doll’s. Her mouth dropped open a little, before she grinned, beaming with pride. She carefully withdrew from Lexa, encouraging Clarke to do the same. She turned Clarke in her arms, pressing gentle kisses to her eyes and nose and cheeks. She could taste the salt on Clarke’s face, but when she immediately feared that maybe she had been too harsh, she looked into warm blue eyes. 

“Fuck, Anya. J-just…” words failed her as her body still trembled in little fits as she slowly came down from her high. Her muscles were heavy, and she felt weak. She was vaguely aware of Anya chuckling at her, gently pushing her down to lay on top of Lexa. She went willingly, burying her face in Lexa’s hot neck, licking and kissing the skin she could reach. It was only a few minutes before blurry green eyes looked up at her, a blush staining her cheeks. 

“I...uh…” Lexa blushed harder. It had been years since anyone had managed to make her pass out from an orgasm so intense that it overrode all her defenses. 

“Shhhh….ssssss ok.” Clarke kissed her gently, humming when Lexa raised her arms and slung them around her back and waist. She tucked her head under her chin, listening to the frantic beat of Lexa’s heart, content in her arms. 

Anya fisted the bottom of her cock, squeezing hard, her eyes rolling in back of her head. She didn’t remember the last time her cock had hurt so badly from not cumming. She bit her lip, her eyes roving the two, naked intertwined bodies on the bed. She pulled herself to her knees, sucking her breath in sharply at the heavy throb in her cock. It wouldn’t take much. She slid her hand up her cock to the head, wiping her fingers across the throbbing, wet head. She groaned, the muscles in her arms twitching uncontrollably. She slid her hand back down, spreading the pre-cum along her straining cock. She pumped her cock one and twice, gritting her teeth at the pressure that shot up her length. She couldn’t control it, and she reached out one hand to steady herself as she leaned forward, aiming her cock at Clarke’s backside. 

She groaned, tipping her head back, as she pumped her cock, squirting thick streams of cum on Clarke’s bottom and lower back. The girl only stirred slightly, and she aimed lower, splashing her cum on Lexa’s legs. She smirked at the way it glistened on their bare skin, and once she was drained, she released her cock, realizing she was still mostly erect. It could wait. 

“Really, Anya?” 

She shrugged and grinned, showing all her teeth at Lexa who just rolled her eyes at her. But when Lexa held her hand out to her, she grabbed it eagerly, trying not to giggle at the way Lexa pulled her down on top of them both. Generals didn’t giggle either.

She closed her eyes, reveling in the way Lexa’s hand wound into her hair, scratching at her scalp; the way Clarke kissed her cheek, pulling her arm over Clarke’s own waist. She let her eyes close, breathing in deeply the smell of sex and cum, sweat and pine and sweet skin. 

***************************  

The infirmary was quiet, the only sound the beeping of the machines measuring Abby’s vitals. The marvel at finding such technology deep under the Mountain had worn off some, and Kane’s attention was almost entirely focused on the unconscious woman. She looked too pale, too fragile under the blankets and the tubes sneaking in and out of her arms didn’t help to improve that impression. 

“She will be alright.” He tore his eyes away from Abby’s still form and looked at Tsing. The doctor was checking one of the machines and making notes on her patient’s chart. She sounded professional, her voice cool and reassuring. She was a professional - Kane had seen how assuredly she’d taken care of Abby’s wounds - but he couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy in her presence. 

There was a distinct lack of warmth in the woman, the smiles she’d directed towards him never quite reaching her dark eyes, but he guessed it may be due to the hardship her own people faced. 

He could sympathize with that, thinking that they hadn’t known anything other than suffering and death since crashing to the ground. There was a knock at the infirmary’s door, then a serious looking man in uniform put his head in the room, eyes scanning the space until he found the doctor. 

“Two of the kids are asking if they can see acting Chancellor Kane,” the man began, nodding to him respectfully, “the President is informed.” 

“Thank you, Michaelson,” Tsing answered curtly, motioning her assent. Kane remembered the two delinquents that crowded inside the room as well as their crime. If the prisoners hadn’t been sent to the ground en mass these two would probably have been released upon their 18th birthday.  They were both technically competent and smarter than what was good for them. It was what had gotten them in trouble in the first place. 

“I will check on the guards you brought along, Chancellor.” Kane knew Tsing was being polite, but he loathed the title. It reminded him how close Abby had been to dying. 

The truth was that the doctor wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“How long do you think they need to be in quarantine, Doctor?” He inquired before she could walk out of the room. 

“Oh, I believe we can release the rest of them in the next 24 hours. The radiation levels are below the critical level, so it’s a matter of being cautious at this point.”

Kane nodded his understanding. He’d been surprised when men in hazmat suits had greeted them inside the tunnels leading to the bunker, but it had been explained to him that the fact they had sealed themselves away under the Mountain had prevented them from building the same radiation resistance the grounders had. 

They used some sort of blood cleansing procedure to venture outside when they needed, and it was the same thing that Tsing was doing to help Abby heal. He failed to see how exactly it was helping and regretted not having brought Jackson along, but he couldn’t leave Camp Jaha without a medical officer.

“So it’s true.” Jasper burst out as soon as Tsing left them alone, “we’d heard rumors when you arrived but… poor Clarke….” He cut off when Monty elbowed him in the ribs, and looked away, biting his lower lip. 

“I’m sorry, sir...it’s just… is Clarke with you?” The boy asked suddenly hopeful. 

“No.” Kane shook his head. “No.” He didn’t mention the name Abby had screamed before running out of the gates. There would be time for that later. Now he wanted to know about the Mountain. “Are you alright? How many of you are here? Have you been treated well?” 

“Most of us are here, sir. The grounders attacked and then the Mountain People came and… well, they took us in. The ones that aren’t here are either dead or got lost during the attack.” 

“Or ran from people that were trying to help.” Jasper added darkly. 

Kane frowned at that outburst, wondering what the boy meant. 

“It’s Clarke, sir,” Monty explained, apparently noticing his confused look, “she was here with us but...she didn’t trust these people and ran away. That’s why we asked if she was with you when President Wallace told us you had agreed to come.” 

“She didn’t trust the Mountain People? Why?” 

The two boys looked at each other and shrugged, but while there was a sneer on Jasper’s lips, Monty seemed uneasy. Perhaps, Kane thought, he should talk with him alone.

“To answer your other question, sir.” Jasper resumed, plopping down on an empty bed, “we’ve been treated very well. The food here is...I don’t know how they manage, but some people told me they grow their own vegetables and protein. And well, somehow they have chocolate cake.” 

Monty snorted at that, earning an eyeroll from his friend. “They assigned us living spaces, sir. Gave us clothes.” He added.

“Are you allowed to move around the bunker freely?” Kane asked. From the little he’d seen, the corridors were well patrolled by guards and these people seemed generally big on security. He’d passed several doors that required electronic badges to be opened. 

“Not yet, no.” Jasper answered, “but the President told us we’ll get clearance soon. Some of us want to help out here to thank them for saving us.” 

It wasn’t lost on Kane that it was only  _ some _ , not everyone. And judging from the looks Monty kept shooting his over enthusiastic friend, he figured that not everyone was thrilled about life in the bunker. 

He wanted to grill them more, but there was another knock at the door and the same man who had ushered them in stepped inside the infirmary. 

“Chancellor Kane, sir.” He went as far as to snap off a sharp salute, “President Wallace has asked me to show you to his office? If you would please follow me?” Kane nodded, sparing one last look for Abby before following the guard outside. 

He didn’t want to leave her, but there was nothing more that he could do for the time being aside from getting a good deal for his people so that they could survive winter. 

And the grounders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So thoughts?


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp...we know it's been a long ass time...but here is the newest chapter! Hope you enjoy the fluff and smut!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey All, 
> 
> And we are baaaaack! I just want to say thank you to all of you for being patient and not giving up on this story. A number of circumstances kind of hindered us from updating this story, and I wasn't in a particularly good place last year, but things have changed quite a bit, and I'm getting back into writing. Hope you enjoy the newest chapter.   
>  -Jude

Lexa woke quietly, softly, the way a young fawn steps out into the snow for the first time. The sleep lay heavy in her bones and her muscles ached pleasantly. She blinked and yawned, burying her face further into her pillow trying to sink back into the welcoming warmth of sleep. And it was long moments before she realized that her pillow was rising and falling gently, that the warmth wasn’t her furs but the body she was curled into. 

It was rare for her to wake so slowly, to want to stay longer in bed. Normally she was awake in an instant, her mind already racing with what she needed to accomplish for the day ahead. Leaving her furs was rarely a problem, even when Anya was in them. But this morning, she was reluctant, her muscles trembling in protest as she lifted her head, her nose bumping against a chin, slowly withdrawing her arm from around a gently curved belly. 

She couldn’t resist, and she gently rested her fingers along Clarke’s cheek, staring down intently at the other girl’s closed eyes. She could see her eyelids tremble slightly. She was still dreaming. She leaned down, her lips hovering over Clarke’s, smiling slightly at the feel of Clarke’s warm breath whispering across her lips. 

She pressed her lips lightly against Clarke’s, a kiss so soft, it was barely there. She laid her head on the pillow next to Clarke’s, her palm gently cupping Clarke’s cheek. She felt something flutter in her chest, something that felt suspiciously like hope, something that felt like more than just surviving. She’d spent her entire life just surviving, waging wars so peace could have a chance. And she’d let her guard down when it came to Costia, believing that the hope she felt then would be real and would flourish not just for her, but for all her people. It had been savagely ripped from her. 

But now...with Anya and Clarke by her side...she smiled and closed her eyes. She’d overslept, there was too much to do, meetings to attend, but she couldn’t force herself to get up just yet, not when she simply wanted to bask in the wonderment of being here in this moment with Clarke. 

“Lexa?” 

She frowned and sighed, carefully lifting her head, surprised to see Anya and not one of her handmaidens. She was even more surprised to see that Anya was only wearing her soft cotton shorts and her bindings. 

“I told them today was to be a day of rest.” Anya lifted the corner of the fur, carefully easing back under it on the other side of Clarke. She propped her head on her hand, reaching out with her other hand, to run her fingers across the back of Lexa’s hand, before encircling her wrist with her fingers. She didn’t squeeze, simply held her wrist between her fingers. It was something she had done when Lexa was younger and still her Second, when she was waiting for Lexa to be still and to simply listen. 

Lexa closed her mouth, all of her hasty words of protest dying on her tongue. It had been a long time since Anya had pulled rank in such a way, so she waited. 

“We talked about this before, about designating one day in the week to resting and enjoying time to ourselves or to our families. Our people need this.” 

Lexa nodded slowly. While they still had the Mountain and the Skaikru to worry about, peace still flourished around them, for the first time since the bombs had fallen. Maybe it was ok to not spend a day training for the next fight or battle. Maybe it was ok to stay here in bed, rest in her houmons arms. Because that was what they were. Her Houmons, her confidantes, her lovers. The only two allowed to see her weaknesses, her vulnerability, listen to her dreams. 

“Besides, everyone has a wicked hangover,” Anya chuckled and released Lexa’s wrist, but not before leaning over and kissing the soft skin. It was soft of her, too soft, but maybe not soft enough. Maybe it was ok to be soft sometimes too. She lay her head on the pillow, reaching across Clarke with har arm, and pressing the back of her hand into Lexa’s belly. She closed her eyes and let sleep claim her again, trusting that Lexa had heard her and understood. 

*************************  

Linnea smiled as she made her way back to her tent, her hands full of food she’d traded from one of the traders of the southern clans. Now that she knew Raven had been denied food most of her life, she was determined to make sure that Raven was never hungry again. And protein paste sounded as unappetizing as the name. 

She juggled the fruit in her hand, fumbling a little as she reached out and knocked on the front pole of the tent. She waited a moment before ducking into the tent. 

“Reivon?” She smiled again when the figure on the mound of furs stirred, and she set the food on the small wooden tray near the mound. She crouched beside Raven, waiting for the skai girl to finally wake up and orient herself. 

The slightly unsteady walk back to Raven’s tent had been too far away, and the younger woman had insisted on just going to Linnea’s tent. And from the way Raven slurred her words slightly and stumbled, Linnea had known the best thing to do would be to simply tuck her into her furs and make sure she drank enough water to avoid pain in the morning. 

“Uurng.”

Linnea smirked a little at the grimace on Raven’s face, and she sat back on her heels watching carefully as Raven hauled herself into a sitting position, her neck a little too stiff as she tried not to move her head. 

“How are you feeling?”

Raven sighed and brushed her hair out of her face, spitting a little at the fine hairs caught across her lips. She grimaced a little as she swallowed, her mouth a little dry, but she knew it could have been worse. But her leg ached, and she slowly pushed herself up so she could swing her legs over the lows side of the bed. She scooted to the edge, cringing at the way her leg cramped, and she couldn’t quite hold back the whimper of pain as the muscles bunched. 

“It’s ok. Let me help.” Linnea leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Raven’s waist, helping her scoot to the edge. She backed up, careful not to bump her legs, to give Raven room to try and stretch out her legs. 

Raven whimpered again as she tried to stretch out her leg, her hands wrapping around the damaged muscles, as she grit her teeth and tried to massage the bunched muscles. 

“Oh fuck. Oh god, that hurts,” she hissed as her vision blurred. Her hands shook and fell away from her leg, the pain too much to try and coax it into something she could live with. 

Linnea wrapped her hands around the hard muscled, squeezing carefully but firmly. “This is going to hurt, Reivon,” she murmured as she reached up with her other hand and cupped Raven’s cheek for a moment. 

“Lay back.” Once Raven had eased herself back down fully on the bed, Linnea took a deep breath and pressed the heel of her palm into the tight muscled. She winced at Raven’s sharp cry of pain, but she grit her teeth and pressed down harder, carefully rotating it and waiting for the muscle to loosen slightly. She lifted Raven’s leg and pressed the bottom of her foot into her chest, and then leaned forward slightly. 

She smiled when she felt the balled muscle in her hand loosen a little more, and she pulled back, and then pressed foward further still. She carefully massaged the muscle with her other hand, repeating the process until finally the muscles loosened completely. 

“Oh my god. I love you.” 

Linnea laughed as she carefully eased Raven’s leg to the ground, before reaching out with both hands for Raven. Once Raven grabbed them, she pulled her into a sitting position, chuckling at the blush on Raven’s face. 

“Um...I mean...what I meant…” 

“I know what you meant, Reivon.” She sat down on the floor of the tent, bending one leg at the knee, and tucking the other leg underneath. She picked a piece of the food and offered it to Raven. “Here. You should eat. This is  _ sof tous.  _ It is from one of the southern clans. They grow the spice that they bake into it the  _ tous. _ ”

She watched as Raven took it from her hand, looking it over before taking a bite. She smiled when Raven’s face lit up, her eyes shining now with something other than tears. And she chuckled when Raven moaned a little as she took another large bite. 

“Mmmph..is..sah gud!” Raven blushed and swallowed her mouthful before trying again. “It’s so good!”

Linnea laughed, “I know. I’m not sure what the spice is called. I forget, but it makes the  _ tous _ …” She shrugged, “soft?” 

Raven nodded as she popped the last piece into her mouth, her tongue tingling at the sweet but sharp spice flooding her mouth. She licked her fingers clean, not caring that Linnea simply watched, a small smile flitting about the corners of her mouth. 

“It’s bread, right? I mean...it isn’t anything like the bread we had the other night. That was flatter and harder. This was...like…” She sighed, an almost dopey look on her face, “...a cloud.” 

Linnea laughed and shook her head, delighted that Raven had enjoyed the _ sof tous _ so much. Perhaps she should learn to make it, so she could give it to Raven whenever she wanted. But the spice was hard to come by, which is why it had cost four sheets of paper. But it had been worth it. 

She picked up a round piece of food next and pulled out a small knife, expertly peeling the thick layer, before revealing the orange flesh beneath. “ _ Deimeika kodon.”  _ She showed Raven how to slide her thumbs into the small opening at the top and pull, the flesh splitting into small wedges. 

“ _ Deimeika kodon _ ...isn’t  _ deimeka _ the sun?” 

Linnea nodded and tapped the thick orange layer she had peeled away. “It is round like the sun, and the thick hide is like the red sun at night, but the flesh…” She picked up a wedge and held it up for Raven to see, before popping it into her mouth. She hummed as the sweet, slightly tart juices hit her tongue. “It is  _ sof _ like the  _ tous _ and the flesh is more like the  _ deimeika _ during winter’s breath. 

Raven bit into a wedge, gasping as the juice spilled past her lips. She wiped it away with her fingers, before licking them, afraid to let any go to waste. “Orange. I think they called these oranges in the Old World. I’ve only ever seen pictures of them.” 

She peeled away another wedge and handed it to Linnea, “what is  _ kodon?”  _

“This. What you just did.” Linnea took the wedge from her, saluting her with it, before popping it into her mouth. 

“Share.” Raven laughed. “I see. It makes sense. They are perfect for sharing.”

Linnea showed Raven the rest of the food, and she was able to identify most of it from pictures she’d seen, but some she’d never seen, and she didn’t think they were in the Ark database. It made sense that the radiation might have helped species mutate and evolve into new species. 

Linnea carefully gathered up the scraps of food and threw them into a small bucket before picking it up. “It is for the  _ onkas, _ they eat everything.” 

Raven nodded reached for her brace, strapping it into place before heaving herself to her feet, feeling better now that she had eaten and drank, but she was still unsteady on her feet, and the residual pain in her leg made her hiss as she put her weight on it. 

“I am going to give this to one of the boys,” Linnea lifted the bucket, “and then I have something that I think you will like.” She jerked her head towards a leather satchel on the ground. “There, could you hand get it for me?” 

She had packed it the night before, hoping she would have this opportunity. She grabbed the two remaining pieces of food they hadn’t eaten yet and tucked them into the bag, once Raven had handed it to her. 

They stepped outside and Linnea handed the bucket off to a young boy, before slinging the satchel across her shoulder and pointing the way for Raven. 

*************************** 

The sun had long peeked over the top of the treeline around the camp and was slowly climbing higher into the sky by the time Clarke started to stir. It took a few moments to realize why she felt slightly over-heated, and why she couldn’t move around very much. 

Heavy arms across her belly and chest held her firmly to the bed, long legs entwined with her own kept her from moving, and she sighed quietly surprised that Anya and Lexa were still in bed with her. She was hot and slightly sweaty, her skin prickling uncomfortably, but it was almost endearing the way they held her while she had slept, their faces buried in her neck, and she couldn’t find it within herself to be overly annoyed about it. 

She pushed up, trying to leverage herself into a sitting position, rolling her eyes and chuckling quietly at the disgruntled murmurs that fell from their lips. She groaned when their arms tightened around her, and she kicked out slightly with her feet, finally rousing them into bleary wakefulness. 

“Too hot. Up.” She muttered as she pushed against their arms again, relief sweeping through her as they yawned and grunted, rolling onto their backs, Lexa blushing slightly at having been caught holding on too tight. 

She sat up in bed and sighed, pulling at the thin t-shirt she wore. It stuck slightly to her skin, and she grimaced, not really remembering putting it back on last night. She hesitated for a moment before shrugging and peeling the shirt off, sighing in relief as the cooler air hit her hot skin. She dropped the shirt on Anya’s face, laughing at the way the older woman harrumphed. 

But her laughter was cut short as long, strong fingers found the indents of her ribs, biting inward, hard enough to make her squeal and choke, but not with pain, as the fingers skated along her ribs. She pushed against Anya, trying to fight off her hands, laughing and growling at her, as she backed into Lexa, almost forcing her off the bed. 

It was a tacit retreat, a simply nudge for help, but Lexa turned traitor, her own fingers finding their place holds along Clarke’s back. 

“N-No! Stop!” She laughed, gasping for air as she tried to fend them both off, unable to do anything but eventually yield to their coordinated attack. 

“Ok! I give! I give! Stoooooop!” 

Anya snorted and pressed Clarke into the mattress, looming over her like a giant tree, splaying its limbs out as far as it could reach. “And what will you give, Clarke?” 

Her voice was husky, teasing, with just the tiniest edge underlying the breath she blew across Clarke’s lips, and Clarke shivered in anticipation. 

“Wh-what do you want?” Clarke swallowed hard around her suddenly thick tongue. The look in Anya’s eye, the way her lips curled over her teeth slightly, left little doubt as to what she wanted. 

Anya waited a moment, contemplating what she really wanted versus what she should ask for. And the way Clarke bit her lower lip, peering up at her through blonde lashes only confused Anya more, wondering if it was innocent and hesitant or a deliberate ploy to drive her wild. Either way, it worked. 

And what she really wanted to release. She’d woken up, her muscles tense, her cock aching. She longed to bury herself in Clarke’s wet heat, feel the younger girl clench hotly around her, coax all of her cum out of her, accept all of it. 

She licked her lips. “A kiss,” she murmured, lowing her face to Clarke’s stopping a breath away, waiting for Clarke to meet her. 

It took only a moment for Clarke to raise her face to Anya’s, press her lips against Anya’s, slightly unsettled by Anya’s benign request. 

And right before their lips met, Anya was sure she something akin to disappointment shine in the blue of her eyes. But she let the thought go when she tasted Clarke’s lips against her own. She held the kiss for a moment, her tongue pressing against Clarke’s mouth. 

Clarke broke away, blushing slightly at Anya’s confused look. “Uh...so...I have to go pee, and I need to brush my mouth.” She waited for Anya to realize what she was saying, and once Anya had nodded and moved away, Clarke scrambled off the bed, pulling her clothes on before leaving the tent. 

“We should do the same.” 

Anya nodded and stood up, wincing slightly at the way her cock rubbed against the fabric of her shorts. It was swollen and almost erect, and she didn’t look forward to going outside with it. 

“Here. Throw your jacket on.” Lexa held Anya’s jacket out, smiling a little at the way Anya winced again. She held it for Anya, who huffed and struggled into it after a moment. She buttoned it, kissing Anya on the chin, in a surprising show of soft affection. 

She shrugged at Anya’s surprised look. “She makes me want to be softer. With you.” 

Anya smiled and nodded, cupping Lexa’s chin in her hand, “I get it.” She kissed her gently, enjoying the musky taste of Lexa’s mouth before pulling away to go about her own morning ablutions. 

“Do you think we can convince her to come back to bed when she gets back?”

Lexa nodded, “Oh I think we can.” She smirked a little, “I will have one of the handmaidens bring food, so we won’t have to go out.” 

Anya returned first, making her way straight to the small stand in the outer room, smiling at the already filled basin. She quickly cleaned herself, chewing on the leaves that left her mouth fresh and her teeth clean, before spitting them out and rinsing her mouth. She returned to the bed to find Lexa sitting cross-legged on it, playing with a piece of fruit in her hand. 

“Are you ok?” 

“The clans...this could mean trouble.” 

Anya hummed and tossed off her jacket, climbing onto the bed besides Lexa. She took the fruit out of her hand, taking a bite before handing it back. “I think that we will deal with that if it comes. But today...today is about you and I and Clarke. Us.” 

“You think we are an us?” 

“Yes. I do, and I think she thinks so to. But if you don’t…”

“No. No, I do.” 

“Good.” 

They both looked up startled to see Clarke standing in the doorway, hands gripping either side of the leather flaps. “I would hate to think that I was sleeping with you both, and yet we aren’t an us.”

She moved into the room to stand before them, pushing against their shoulders until they moved and let her sit between them. She took one of their hands in each of her own, squeezing them a little. “Us. Together, right?” 

She smiled when she heard their almost breathless “yes’s” whispering against her skin as their lips found purchase on her cheek and neck. She shivered slightly, letting her gaze fall to her lap, smiling again at the way their hands fit perfectly. 

Her eyes strayed, and she shivered again a little, her belly hollowing out as she licked her lips that trembled just enough to be felt but not seen. “Looks like you have a bit of a problem, Anya.” 

Anya pulled her face away from where she had unapologetically had it buried in Clarke’s hair. “Huh?” 

She looked down and chuckled at the bulge in her lap. “Yes, that does leave something to be desired.” 

“And what exactly do you desire?” 

Anya shivered at the the words slithered along her spine, at the way the back of Clarke’s hand, casually brushed against the bulge in her lap. The slightest caress to almost seem innocent, but the almost obscene way Clarke licked her lips, left her no doubt at to what the younger woman meant. 

“You. Wrapped around my cock.” The words were heavy and blunt, and her face tightened, the skin stretching tighter across her cheekbones, making her look like a predator. And a predator was how she suddenly felt, longing to sink her teeth into the unmarked skin above Clarke’s breast, mark the girl for weeks to come, paint her skin in blushing red as she writhed under her, while she buried her cock inside of her over and over again. 

Lexa grunted, slightly surprised by Anya’s words, and she felt them press heavily into her belly, making her mouth water at the thought of watching Anya and Clarke together. It was exciting, almost thrilling at the thought of hearing them both in the throes of fucking. She was well aware of just how good Anya could be, wrenching startled cries from Lexa’s chest when she least expected it. 

Clarke didn’t answer, simply let her hand fall into Anya’s lap, her fingers purposefully stroking over the bulge in Anya’s shorts. She kissed her on the corner of her mouth, enjoying the way Anya tried to follow her mouth with her own when Clarke pulled away. 

She turned, her fingers still stroking Anya, but this time her lips found Lexa’s, and her eyes fluttered closed as she pressed her lips to her’s. Her mouth tasted like mint and fog on an early fall morning, but her tongue was hot and wanting as it slipped into Clarke’s mouth, and she groaned at the taste of her, drinking her in, shuddering at the slight zing along her nerves. 

She sighed into Lexa’s mouth, half-formed words on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring them to rein. They scattered like leaves in the wind when she felt Lexa’s fingers slip under her shirt and play along her ribs. She could feel her chest expand, her ribs push outwards, hollowing her out even more with every muted breath she took against Lexa’s mouth. 

Until it was too much, and she pulled away, her chest heaving, her ribs aching. She dropped her head into Lexa’s shoulder, her lips barely tasting the warm skin of her neck. Lights danced behind her closed eyes, and she wondered how kissing Lexa always left her aching and breathless, disjointed like a broken doll. And yet, it was thrilling, and she still craved it. 

She felt Anya slip to her knees, felt her hands at the waistband of her shorts, but she caught them and shook her head. “No. Not that. Later,” she muttered, as she shakily stood to her feet, pulling at Anya’s hands. 

“What do you want?” She almost didn’t hear the soft words. Anya’s words were usually clipped and hard, although not necessarily loud. 

She chuckled a little, rubbing at her belly, her skin growing warmer. She grabbed her shirt again and peeled it over her head, smiling a little as she dropped it to the ground. She didn’t have to wait long before Anya moved closer, her hands cupping her breasts, her thumbs lightly caressing her hardening nipples. 

“I want what you want,” she gestured at Anya, her gaze falling to the rapidly growing swell in Anya’s shorts. She blushed and jerked her eyes upward, not surprised to see Anya’s amused grin. She huffed and pushed on Anya’s arms, ineffective as the older woman didn’t seem too keen on moving yet. She rolled her eyes and tried again, pushing Anya against the bed, before she lost her nerve. 

“Um...show me?” 

“Sha.” 

Clarke nodded and waited while Anya scooted back, taking off her shorts as she did so. Clarke reached behind her, knowing Lexa would see, and once Lexa had grabbed her hand, she followed Anya onto the bed, pulling Lexa with her. 

It took a moment to get situated again, Clarke in the middle. Again. But she couldn’t complain this time as warm hands ran up her belly, lips tickling along her shoulders, sucking at her neck. It was almost too much, the gentle caresses, that grew heavier with each passing moment, until fingers plucked at her hard nipples and teeth scraped along the cords of her neck. 

She groaned a little when she felt hot mouths encircle her nipples, and she reached for their heads, her fingers finding purchases in the half braids and thick hair. Her nipples ached, and both seemed to know when to suck harshly and then gently lick, but it was Anya who left small bites along the underside of her breast, and it was Lexa who laved them with her tongue, soothing the sharp sting. 

Lexa let her hand drift lower, her fingers slipping under the waistband of Clarke’s shorts. Her fingers scraped across the trimmed hair. She played a little with the hair, softly tugging, before slipping her fingers lower, pressing between Clarke’s lips. 

She groaned around the nipple in her mouth at the feel of Clarke’s slick against her fingertips. She gathered it on her fingertips, brushing her fingers across Clarke’s clit. She smiled at the way Clarke jerked her hips, and she circled her clit with her finger, gently drawing it out from under it’s hood. 

Clarke jerked her hips again, her breath catching against her teeth. She could feel the sweat start to pearl on her skin, and she groaned and moved her head restlessly against the pillow, her legs moving in in a jerky rhythm against the furs. 

“M-more, Lexa. More,” she whispered, her voice strained, on the edge of pleading. 

Anya couldn’t resist and let Clarke’s nipple go with a pop. She blew across it enjoying the way it puckered just the tiniest bit more. It was red and wet, hard and aching. She kissed it before, sliding up a little, her lips finding Clarke’s. She pushed her tongue into her mouth, not giving her the chance to say more, and she groaned at the hot taste of Clarke on her tongue. And she wondered what Clarke tasted like between her legs,  if Clarke would be just as hot and heavy on her tongue. 

Clarke pushed Anya away, dizzy and too hot to stay sandwiched between them anymore. “Enough,” she muttered. She sat up, relieved when Anya fell away from her onto her back. 

“Just can’t breath,” she muttered her head hanging a little. She took a deep breath, relaxing back into Lexa’s warm hands tracing soft patterns along her back. She smiled at the way Lexa’s lips traced along her spine. 

“Sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for, hodness.” Lexa slipped her arms around Clarke’s waist, brushing her lips along the back of her neck. 

“I’m sorry if we rushed you.”

“No. No. Not that.” Clarke shook her head, craning her neck to see Lexa. “No...it just got really hot, and um…” she blushed. “I was afraid I was going to cum.” 

“You’re supposed to cum. That’s the point,  _ Skaifaya _ .” At Clarke’s questioning look, she shrugged and reached out, her hand tracing the soft skin of Clarke’s belly. “We want you to cum. Over and over again.” 

Clarke shook her head. “No, not that.  _ Skaifaya.” _

“Oh.” Anya turned her head a little, a faint blush skimming over her cheekbones. She shrugged and turned back to Clarke, glaring a little at Lexa who was grinning from over Clarke’s shoulder. 

“It is the fire. The fires that burn in the sky. You’re the fire that burns in the sky come to earth. To us.” 

“Oh. Stars,” murmured Clarke, smiling at little. She leaned forward, her hands pushing against Anya’s shoulders. She swung her leg over Anya’s hips, smiling at the way the older woman gasped as her clothed center pressed against her cock. 

“Fire from the sky,” murmured Clarke as she rocked carefully against Anya, smiling when Anya’s hands grasped her hips. 

“And do you know how to make a star burn brighter?” 

Anya grunted, almost not hearing Clarke’s words, her mind too occupied with the growing ache in her cock. She licked her lips, her eyes glued to Clarke’s clothed center, her fingers biting into the fabric of her shorts. She could feel the younger girl’s wetness spreading across her shorts, and the friction against the soft head of her cock made her grit her teeth. 

Lexa moved up behind Clarke, having fully shed her clothes. She settled herself on her knees on either side of Anya’s legs. She slid her hands along Anya’s, caressing the back of Anya’s hands that gripped Clarke’s hips. 

Lexa pressed her chest into Clarke’s back, enjoying the feel of the soft skin scraping her own nipples. She dragged her lips along the contours of Clarke’s shoulders, memorizing the shape of them in her mouth. 

“How, Clarke? How do you make a star burn brighter?” She asked. 

“You build a fire in her belly.” 

Anya groaned and jerked her hips, her fingers finding Clarke’s waistband. She tried to pull them down, but couldn’t with Clarke still sitting on her lap. She growled under her breath, grabbing the shorts in both hands and pulling hard. 

Clarke gasped at the loud ripping sound and the cool air that suddenly hit her lower belly. She looked down in shock at Anya who simply smirked at her. 

“Really, An?” 

“Really, Skaifaya.” Anya ripped the legs and pulled the rags out from under Clarke, hissing as Clarke’s wet center made contact with her cock. 

“Sha...sha…” she muttered, her hands on Clarke’s hips again. Her cock was erect against her belly, dripping onto her skin, and she mourned the loss of it, wanting all of it inside of Clarke instead. 

Clarke could feel her cock against her lips. It was warm and thick. She wriggled slightly, earning more moans and tight fingers on her hips from Anya, but she succeeded in positioning herself, so she could feel Anya’s cock between her lips. 

She was shocked at how hot it actually felt, and she could feel it tremor slightly. She rocked her hips forward, her juices coating Anya’s cock. She put planted her hands on bed on either side of Anya’s ribcage, and she started to move her hips, grinding down and then sliding forward and back, coating almost the entire length of Anya’s cock between her lips. 

She angled her hips so her swollen clit dragged along Anya’s cock. She shivered at the warmth spreading along her nerves, and she could feel her wetness dripping on Anya’s cock, feel Lexa’s breasts pressing into her back, her hands running up and down her spine. 

“F-fuck...I need….erng…” She couldn’t finish the words, didn’t want to finish them, hoping Anya knew what she meant, and judging by the chuckle from beneath her, Anya knew exactly what she needed. 

“Ok, Skaifay, time to put a fire in your belly,” murmured Anya as she sat up a little, her hands sliding under Clarke’s bottom, lifting her up a little so she was kneeling tall instead of hunched over her. Anya fisted her cock, groaning a little at the friction as she dragged her fist up and down her cock, gathering the wetness at the tip and spreading it further down, mixing it with Clarke’s juices. 

She fumbled slightly, almost too excited at the idea of being inside of Clarke, before she realized she’d forgotten something. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She snarled, her chest tightening in anger. She slammed her head back onto the pillow groaning. 

“What’s wrong?” 

She huffed and pushed herself back up, peering over Clarke’s shoulder to look at Lexa. “Do we have any of the tea left?”

“Fuck,” muttered Lexa, as she started climbing off of the bed. She’d completely forgotten about it, and she wasn’t sure they had any left. “I will have to get some from one of the guards.”

“Wait...what tea?” 

Lexa stopped and leaned down and kissed Clarke’s shoulder, “It’s ok. It’s just a tea to make sure that Anya doesn’t get you with child. It’s gross, but it does the job. Mostly.” 

Clarke shook her head, “No. No. I have a chip. It prevents me from getting pregnant. We don’t need the tea.” 

Anya bit her lip, slightly unsure. “It never fails?” 

“No, only if you take it out. It’s fine.” She bent down, pressing her lips to Anya’s sternum, before lightly dragging her tongue around her breast and up and over her nipple. 

“No tea,” muttered Anya, her eyes closing at the feel of Clarke’s mouth on her breast, her tongue twirling around her nipple. She felt almost helpless, wanting to move and push up, so her cock would find Clarke’s wet heat, but enjoying the way her tongue sent little shivers across her skin too much to move. 

Lexa smirked, settling herself behind Clarke again. She pressed her mouth to her spine, dragging her tongue down, urging Clarke forward a little more. She reached between Clarke’s legs, dragging her fingertips along Anya’s cock, before her fingers found Clarke’s wet nub. She circled it slowly, tapping the head lightly, grinning against Clarke’s hot skin when the other girl groaned. 

She reached between her legs again with her other hand grasping Anya’s cock and squeezing it at the base, smirking at the grunt she managed to earn from Anya. She lined the head of Anya’s cock up to Clarke’s center, circling her entrance with the head of Anya’s cock. 

She still held Anya’s cock, reluctantly pulling her other hand from Clarke’s wet center. She brought her hand to her lips, carefully licking the juices from her fingers, humming at the slightly salty taste. She pressed her hand against the small of Clarke’s back, before sliding it around to her belly and pulling her back against her chest. 

“Are you ready, hodness?” She breathed the words against Clarke’s ear, her tongue tasting the warm, slightly moist skin there. She waited but Clarke said nothing, only nodding her head. 

“Say it.” 

“Yes, please. Yes.” She whimpered a little at the feel of Anya’s blunt cockhead pushing against her entrance, but Lexa’s steady hand on her belly was all the reassurance she needed. 

She let Lexa guide her, dropping her weight slightly, until the large head popped into her tight entrance. She groaned at the sting, but Lexa’s lips on her neck distracted her. She reached up behind her, one arm around Lexa’s neck, pulling the older girl’s mouth to her own. She whimpered again as their tongues slid against each other. 

And she groaned loudly into Lexa’s mouth, when she felt long fingers skim across her clit, and pluck at the nub there. And she didn’t even realize that she was fully seated on top of Anya, Anya’s cock buried deep inside of her, until Anya squeezed her hips and pushed up into her. 

Clarke’s head fell forward, her hands scrambling for purchase on Anya’s slick stomach as the older woman reached under her thighs and bottom to lift her up so she could pump her cock deep inside of her. It almost hurt at first, the stretch, but it soon gave way to a searing heat spreading through her muscles. 

“Fuck. Yes, more, Anya.” She leaned forward, her hands on either side of Anya’s shoulders, as she ground her hips down, meeting each of Anya’s thrusts. It felt better than she had imagined, being stretched and fucked so deep that she couldn’t form coherent thoughts, everything just scattered to the wind. She could feel Lexa’s fingers on her clit, pinching and rubbing in time to Anya’s thrusts, and she felt a sharp itch deep inside of her pelvis that felt out of reach. 

Lexa leaned forward, forcing Clarke down closer to Anya’s body. She pulled Clarke’s knees toward her own, and pushed on her upper back, forcing her to race her bottom slightly. Watching Clarke take all of Anya’s cock, kissing the soft skin of her back, and running her fingers over her straining nub had hollowed out Lexa’s belly, made the heat simmer low in her muscles. Her own body was aching for release, she pressed as tightly as she could against Clarke, raising herself high on her knees, so she could press her clit against the high swell of Clarke’s bottom. 

Lexa groaned as she ground down on the firm muscle, her clit pulsing and aching with every breath she took. She wrapped her hand under the swell of Clarke’s bottom, leveraging herself against Clarke, keeping in time with Anya’s pumping and pounding into Clarke. Each rise and fall dragged across her clit, sending little sparks throughout her muscles, and she could feel the heat building deep inside her clit, and spreading into her belly. 

She looked down, eyes wide at the glistening smears along Clarke’s bottom, and she bit her lip hard, tasting the copper on her tongue as she watched Anya’s cock pound into Clarke. 

“Goddess,” she muttered, her breath rattling in her chest. “Fuck I’m going to cum,” she ground her fingers hard against Clarke’s clit, as she rode the swell of her bottom, dragging her hard clit across the soft skin. She could feel it building, a wave hurtling towards her, and she groaned and jerked her hips hard against Clarke, grinding her sore clit until the wave crashed through, her drowning her in heat.

She shook against Clarke, her hips pressing into Clarke’s bottom, her juices dripping down Clarke’s bottom. She pressed her sweaty face into Clarke’s back, feeling the other girl shake under her. She knew her weight was hampering Anya, but she was too tired to move. 

“Ung...damn...Lexa, off.” Anya grunted as most of Lexa’s weight crashed onto Clarke’s back, forcing Anya to slow and then stop pumping inside of Clarke. She swore under her breath when Lexa didn’t move, but the weight was too much to keep pumping, so she let her hips sink into the bed. 

She could feel Clarke was right on the edge, her muscles sheathing Anya tightly were starting to tremble and flex, and she groaned at the way they massaged her cock. 

“Don’t stop,” she muttered as she felt Clarke clench around her. “Like that,” she whimpered, her tongue think in her mouth, her mind hazy as her cock swelled slightly, trembling with the need to let go. The pressure in her cock was almost unbearable, the relief she craved held back only by sheer will, but she didn’t think she could last much longer. 

Clarke ground her hips down as much as she could, clenching around Anya’s cock, almost crying at the friction against her front wall. It was just out of reach though, that pinnacle that she wanted to simply reach and keep going, falling off into the ocean awaiting her. 

“Lex...baby…” She jiggled her shoulders a little, relieved when it roused Lexa who muttered apologies and sat up, pulling Clarke up a little with her. 

Clarke sighed in relief the weight gone, and she groaned when Lexa’s fingers found her clit again. rubbing it gently. “Fuck, yes.” She could feel Lexa’s juices smeared across her skin, and it made her almost giddy, knowing such an intimate part of Lexa was painting her skin. 

She sat up a little, moving her hips, encouraging Anya to continue. She’d gotten used to the short hard pumps, craved them even. She placed her hand on the bed, near Anya’s neck to support her weight, while she brought her other hand to Anya’s mouth, her fingers idling over Anya’s lips, until Anya opened her mouth. She pushed two fingers into Anya’s mouth, pressed them down onto Anya’s tongue, forcing her mouth open. She let her thumb play across the smooth skin of her chin to the delicate skin underneath. She pressed her thumb up under her chin, effectively trapping her. 

She tugged a little, her fingers pressing harder into Anya’s tongue. “Suck,” she commanded, pushing her thumb up to close Anya’s mouth around her fingers. “And don’t stop.”

Anya choked slightly, her tongue trapped to the bottom of her mouth. She couldn’t move it, could barely swallow around the intrusion in her mouth, but when Clarke started to move her hips, raising herself on Anya’s cock, and then pushing back down, taking her all the way in, Anya didn’t care that she was almost choking. 

“Fuuurm,” the word was garbled and useless, and it made Clarke laugh. 

“Don’t speak, Warrior. There is no point. You’re mine.” She closed her eyes, licking her lips at the feel of Anya’s thick cock inside of her, and it sent little shivers up and down her spine as she pushed up and then down, taking her cock in and out in one fluid motion. 

But when Anya tried to slip her hands under her bottom and lift her up so she could pound into her, Clarke pushed harder on her tongue, causing her to choke slightly. 

“Uh uh. No,” She whispered as she leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Shusha, Warrior.” 

Anya felt her eyes start to roll in the back of her head a little. Her oxygen partly cut off. She knew it would be so easy to flip Clarke, dislodge her, but there was something intoxicating about the younger woman being in charge, commanding her with just the press of her fingers. And she knew how to ride her cock, knew how to clench around it, grind on it, and leave her wanting for more. 

But could feel it burning and trembling to the point of pain. It was sharp but sweet, almost bitter as she felt Clarke increase her pace, now gently stroking her tongue with the smallest flutters. It was too much...the tight, hard heat in her belly, the friction on her cock rubbing against Clarke’s walls, and she clenched tightly, groaning hard as she let herself go, her hips jerking hard as Clarke grown down on her. 

She could see strange dancing lights behind her eyelids, her heart galloping like a frightened steed, as she felt the orgasm crash into her bones, robbing her of what little breath she had left. Everything went dark. 

Clarke hissed when she felt the first pulse inside of her, “Fuck, Anya….Lex,” she muttered, pressing her hips forward slightly into Lexa’s hands. She groaned deeply, a roar filling her chest that never passed her lips as she came, quaking and twisting on top of Anya. The ball of fire in her belly, finally unraveling all through her limbs. 

She ground her hips into Anya’s, clenching her cock, milking the last strands of cum from her, while she shook in Lexa’s arms, relieved that Lexa was there holding her upright, whispering soft words that she couldn’t understand in her ear. 

She pulled her fingers from Anya’s mouth, brushing her lips against Anya’s, before carefully pushing up, and swinging her leg over to the side. It was messy and squelched in a way that made her belly tighten, as her and Anya’s cum spilled out of her. She flopped onto the bed, pressed into Anya’s side, Lexa laying half on top of them both. 

“Hey.”

Clarke smiled lazily, warmth making her limbs heavy. “Hey, baby.” She kissed Lexa, sighing softly into the gently press of her lips and mouth. They kissed softly for long moments, before finally separating. 

“An?”

Clarke nudged Anya, “Warrior? We need to work on your stamina,” she teased as she kissed Anya’s cheek. 

Anya grunted, opening her eyes and blinking blearily around. Her head hurt slightly, but her muscles were all heavy and dripping with satisfaction. “I’ll show you stamina,” she growled as she turned over, throwing an arm across both girls. 

“After I nap,” she muttered, a blush straining across her cheekbones. It was the first time she’d ever passed out from sex, not that she was going to tell either of them that she’d passed out. She yawned and wriggled down into the bed, snorting when Clarke pushed up against her arm. 

“No...someone else be in the middle this time. Lexa.” 

Lexa didn’t bother to argue, sleep plucking at the edges of her mind. She scrambled across Clarke and settled between them. It took a moment to gather their limbs and trade soft kisses before all three fell into sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> Sof Tous = Sweet Bread (Think cinnamon roll)


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